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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29206983">In My Place</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsmadeofbooks/pseuds/heartsmadeofbooks'>heartsmadeofbooks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Glee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bad Boy Kurt Hummel, Bookworm!Blaine, Drama, Family Drama, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Romance, Shy!Blaine, Thought not really because it's mostly jerk!Kurt Hummel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:47:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>101,094</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29206983</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsmadeofbooks/pseuds/heartsmadeofbooks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine has always been shy and introverted, so after his father dies, he looks for comfort into his childhood dream - owning a bookstore. But then Kurt Hummel walks into his life, turning his dream into a complicated affair.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blaine Anderson &amp; Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Glee</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <b>Hey everyone!</b>
</p><p>
  <b>We continue this streak of posting one of my old fics per day, and now is the turn for In My Place (originally posted in 2013), in which I made Blaine love books as much as I did, and then I went ahead and made Kurt an asshole because I could.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>I think this is the first story I wrote where I started feeling a bit better about my writing. Not to say the previous ones are shit, but I would rewrite the hell out of them, haha.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>And, a little fun fact, the premise for this story was inspired by a Darren pic posted by Chord, which said “I like a guy who can rock a toolbelt.” So I of course went ahead and wrote a whole ass fic about it. (<a href="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/0f/e7/c2/0fe7c2eb4191cdb63e93c0d78a043556.jpg">Here's the pic if you want to see it</a>)</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Anyway, hope you enjoy! :)</b>
</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">
  
</p><p class="western">It all started with a funeral.</p><p class="western">Blaine Anderson wrapped his mother in a one-armed hug and pulled her closer to his side. She was a small woman, with black curly hair neatly gathered back in a bow, and piercing hazel eyes. No one would have doubted he was her son.</p><p class="western">Now, their identical hazel eyes watched as the coffin was lowered into the grave. Blaine felt her trembling and tried to make a comforting sound, but what came out sounded more woeful than anything else.</p><p class="western">Two days ago, Blaine picked up the phone to hear his mother's frantic voice on the other end. Between sobs, she explained that Blaine's father had been in a car accident on his way home from work, and died instantly. Blaine had listened to the news numbly, had reassured his mother that he'd be there in half an hour, and then hung up the phone. It was only when he'd arrived to the house where he had grown up in and saw Heather Anderson's tear-stained cheeks that it sank in. His father was gone.</p><p class="western">It was overwhelmingly real now, as he watched the shiny wooden coffin sinking into the dirt. His mother took a slow step forward, out of his arms, to drop a red rose into the grave. He took his own step forward then, to throw in his rose and say his goodbye. How could he say goodbye when so much had been left unsaid?</p><p class="western">Heather squeezed his hand when he returned to her side, and only seconds later, their family, the family's friends, the neighbors, everyone began approaching them to give them their condolences. Blaine had never understood why people said they were sorry when someone died. Saying they were sorry sounded so wrong, so false, so cliché. What could they possibly be sorry for?</p><p class="western">But he was an Anderson boy, raised to be unfailingly polite, so he nodded appropriately every time someone spoke those words to him. He kept his gaze fastened to the ground, as if staring at the grave would eventually help him make sense of what had happened.</p><p class="western">And yet... how can you simply accept that life can just end so quickly? His father had left his office for home, as he had done every day for the past thirty years, planning to have dinner with his wife, perhaps having a glass of red wine and maybe watching the news as he relaxed before heading to bed, where he would probably read over some report from work. But that routine was now broken, and Blaine couldn't help wondering what would've happened if his father had gotten a last minute phone call, or if he'd had been stopped by someone on the way out. Would he still be alive today? Would things have remained as they had always been?</p><p class="western">Heather squeezed his hand again, and Blaine tore his eyes away from the place where his father would rest for all of eternity. Eternity. What an unfathomable concept that was. It was impossible to understand something as vast as eternity, but then again, it had seemed impossible to believe Mark Anderson could die so suddenly too.</p><p class="western">"We should go now," Heather whispered, although she seemed reluctant to move away, to leave Mark there all alone in the cold, cold ground.</p><p class="western">"We can stay as long as you need to," Blaine said reassuringly, slipping his arm around her shoulders again.</p><p class="western">But Heather shook her head, then dabbed at her tears delicately with the sodden handkerchief she'd used all afternoon. "No. Everyone will go to the house soon and we need to be there to receive them."</p><p class="western">Blaine sighed, dreading it. He had never understood the need people had to get together after funerals, eat and behave as if there was something to celebrate. But the Andersons had always had a busy social life, and there were dozens of people waiting to offer their sympathy to both Heather and Blaine. And Blaine always did what he was expected to do.</p><p class="western">The drive back was mostly silent, except for the occasional quiet sniffs coming from the passenger seat, where Heather was staring out the window. Blaine couldn't possibly imagine how his mother was feeling at a moment like this, what her thoughts were. He couldn't imagine how it would feel to lose the man you had loved for more than half your life.</p><p class="western">The Andersons had a nice house on the outskirts of Westerville. It had a big, white, welcoming door and large windows, and a little balcony overlooking the backyard on the other side. The grey stone front made the house look elegant and timeless, and his mother's well-cared for flowerbeds made it look graceful. Blaine had always thought the house wasn't cozy enough; it had too many rooms for only three people. When he was a kid Blaine had felt so lonely in the empty hallways and quiet rooms. When he was a teenager, he had appreciated the privacy a little more, but he had still longed for something less formal.</p><p class="western">He parked the car in the driveway and helped his mother out, keeping a hand on her back to guide her inside, to show her he was still there. She kissed his cheek as he opened the door, and then he told her to go sit in the living room to relax for a moment while he prepared for when people started arriving.</p><p class="western">Blaine walked into the kitchen and allowed himself a moment to press his hands to the cold granite countertops. He had been reacting automatically since his mother's panicked call, and his self-control was starting to wear thin. He had forced himself to remain calm, to be helpful, to not let his own grief show until this day was over, but he was sure there was a price to pay once all the details were done.</p><hr/><p class="western">Soon the house was filled with the smell of too many flowers and too much food, and the sound of multiple conversations. Heather had resumed her role as hostess as soon as the first person arrived, and once again Blaine was surprised at what a strong woman she was, putting on a brave face and forcing herself to interact with people when she clearly was hurting deeply inside.</p><p class="western">Blaine's attention drifted away from his mother when he felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned to find one of his father's business partners standing there.</p><p class="western">"Mark was a great man, Blaine," he said solemnly. "We worked together, but we were friends, too. Whenever we went out for lunch after a meeting, he always talked about you."</p><p class="western">Blaine's eyebrows shot up in surprise at that. He sounded perplexed when he spoke. "He did?"</p><p class="western">"Of course! When you were a little boy, he often talked about taking you to the office with him, so you could see what he did. He was always too busy to actually do it, but I know he wanted you to see his world," the man gave Blaine a quick pat in the back and a sad smile. "If I can do anything for you or your mother, please let me know."</p><p class="western">Blaine merely nodded his thanks before he was left alone again, this time with different thoughts. His father had talked about him during lunch with his associates and friends? The man he remembered and the man that had been just described to him didn't quite match.</p><p class="western">He took a sip of water and loosened his black skinny tie a little. Blaine wanted nothing more than disappear, in that corner of the living room, on his own, and think, but one of his neighbors approached him then, and he knew it wasn't the time to dwell on it. He took a deep breath and listened for the hundreth time that day about what a great man his dad had been.</p><p class="western">He would have to wait and put the pieces together later, and maybe then he'd be able to remember the man everyone else had known, instead of the one who had raised him.</p><hr/><p class="western">It was late when the house was finally empty again. Silence settled over it like a thick blanket, not even the sounds from the neighborhood seemed to penetrate through the windows.</p><p class="western">Blaine decided to stay for the night. It had been a very hard day for both of them and he didn't want to leave his mother alone. He went into his old bedroom and sat on the bed. It still looked much like it had when he was in high school: the light green walls that matched the throw pillows on the bed; the old football his father had gotten him, autographed by one of his favorite players from the Buckeyes was still on top of the dresser. A few old photographs were scattered around here and there; there were still a couple of trophies from polo and singing competitions. The only thing that looked different were his bookshelves. They had been full of books when he still lived here, but all those books were now in his current apartment in Westerville, though now he wished he had left a few behind. Those books were comforting to him, and he could really use some comfort right now. Just running his fingers down the worn spines of the books, or letting his eyes linger on the familiar words on the pages would've been enough to lighten his heavy heart.</p><p class="western">Instead, he took off his jacket and tie and let them carelessly draped on the chair at the desk. He rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows and ran his hand through his hair, loosening the gel that kept it tamed. He rummaged in his bag for a moment and then moved to the bathroom to take his contacts out and replace them with his black-rimmed glasses. His eyes felt tired, all of him was tired, but he knew that if he got into bed, he wouldn't be able to sleep. Not yet, at least.</p><p class="western">Deciding to go back downstairs and maybe find something to drink and eat since he had barely touched any food all day, Blaine left his room and went into the kitchen to find his mother was already there. She was wearing a white silk robe on top of her pajamas, sitting at the kitchen table and staring down into her cup of tea as if it held all of the answers to every single question in the universe.</p><p class="western">Blaine leaned against the doorway and watched her for a couple of seconds. "Are you okay?"</p><p class="western">Heather's head snapped up in surprise. "Oh. I didn't hear you come in, Blaine, dear." Her fingers curled around the mug, instinctively looking for some warmth. "I'm okay, yes."</p><p class="western">Blaine moved to the fridge and pulled it open. He looked inside and then grabbed some chicken and mustard to make a sandwich. He worked quietly at the counter, and only spoke up again when he was sitting at the table, opposite his mother. "You can't sleep either?"</p><p class="western">She gave him a sad little smile. "When you're used to sharing your bed with your husband for so many years, finding his side empty and cold doesn't exactly help you rest." After a sip of tea and a soft sigh, she asked, "you're having trouble sleeping, too?"</p><p class="western">Blaine nodded. "I guess I just have a lot on my mind right now."</p><p class="western">"Anything you want to talk about?" She offered.</p><p class="western">"No. It's... it's about him, and I don't want you to..." Blaine muttered, unsure.</p><p class="western">Heather grabbed his hand and looked into his eyes. "Honey, just because he's gone, it doesn't mean I can't talk about him, or that I don't want to. Yes, it hurts, but pretending it never happened won't change how I feel. If there's something you want to talk about, you can do it."</p><p class="western">She let go of his hand and he took a bite off his sandwich to gain some time. He didn't know how to word what he was feeling, and that was unusual, because words had always been friends of his. He had always been able to rely on words to express himself, whether he sang about it or he wrote about it, or he read about it.</p><p class="western">"I'm afraid I missed my chance to really get to know who my father was," Blaine started, frowning down at his food.</p><p class="western">"What do you mean?" Heather asked.</p><p class="western">"Everyone talked about him today, and most of the things they said, didn't have anything to do with what I saw on him while I was growing up, or over these past few years," Blaine explained. "I know he was a good man, I know he was good at his job... but what about everything else?" Blaine was frustrated. For so many years, his father had been an enigma for him, but somehow Blaine had always thought he had time to unravel the mystery, to understand, to ask the questions he'd never dared to ask. And now...</p><p class="western">Heather sighed. "He never hid from you. He was always the man you saw."</p><p class="western">"That makes no sense," Blaine retorted, pushing the plate with the sandwich away. "Of course he hid from me. Of course that wasn't who he was. He was always too busy and uncommunicative... He..." Blaine paused and closed his eyes. His thoughts were a mess and the stress of the last few days was catching up to him. He was exhausted. "John told me today that he always used to talk about me when they went out for lunch together."</p><p class="western">Heather nodded. "I know. He liked talking about you."</p><p class="western">The frustration was growing stronger inside of him, tightening his chest. "But <em>that </em>doesn't make any sense!" He said again. "He didn't even like me, mom, why would he talk about me with his friends?"</p><p class="western">Heather's hazel eyes went wide and she seemed honestly shocked. "Blaine... how can you say your father didn't like you? He loved you, so much. You were his only son."</p><p class="western">"His only son who is gay?" Blaine replied bitterly. "You think I don't know he was disappointed in me?"</p><p class="western">Heather shook her head. "Oh, Blaine, dear. You really <em>didn't </em>know him if that's what you think."</p><p class="western">Blaine's confusion must have shown on his face, because Heather took a last sip of tea and then reached for his hand.</p><p class="western">"I remember when I first met him, he reminded me of one of those characters in those old black and white movies, the perfect gentleman. He had been raised to be one, and he was perhaps a little too respectful and quiet." Her tone and her gaze became a little dreamy and Blaine's heart broke a little at that, thinking she had lost the man she clearly loved so deeply. "He never really found it easy to talk about his feelings. He was always better at communicating on a professional level, actually. He was a little distant, but I never doubted for a second that he loved me as much as I loved him. It was just who he was, Blaine," she squeezed his hand gently. "When you were a little boy, he changed a little. He was less distant, more caring. He spent long afternoons playing outside with you, rolling on the grass in his expensive suits," she laughed a bit at that, and Blaine thought hard for a moment. He had been too young to remember all of that, but he thought he'd dreamed about it. "But when you were almost ten, the company went through a bit of a crisis, and your father had to spend more time at the office. He was too busy and overstressed, and there were times he was worried we weren't going to make it, and by the time we were back on our feet, financially, and the company was out of trouble, you were around thirteen. He found it much harder getting close to a teenager, especially since you were going through so many extra changes, coming to terms with your sexuality. You were locked in your room, reading all the time, and, to be fair, neither of us knew how to approach you sometimes. It's hard on everyone, having a teenage son."</p><p class="western">Blaine replayed her words in his head, thoughtfully. "That still doesn't mean he liked me. He liked the little boy he played with, not me. Not who I am now."</p><p class="western">Heather stood up and took her empty mug to the sink. "He was worried about you, and sometimes he didn't know how to deal with that."</p><p class="western">"He wasn't even happy when I got into college," Blaine said, remembering the way his father had frowned when he showed him his acceptance letter.</p><p class="western">"Again, he was more worried. He always thought you lacked a bit of ambition, and he was worried you would have trouble finding a job," Heather explained patiently.</p><p class="western">"I have a job," Blaine said stubbornly.</p><p class="western">"Yes, Blaine. You do." She sat back at the table, this time next to him, and put a hand on his knee. "Being worried about your child is something you'll understand when you become a father yourself." She smiled a little at the thought. "But for now, I can tell you this: maybe there were some things he didn't understand, things he didn't know how to say or show, but he loved you, no matter what." She stood up, ready to walk out of the kitchen, but stopped at the doorway. "And Blaine? He was very proud of you."</p><p class="western">Blaine took a sharp intake of breath (those words. He had always wanted to hear those words), and only nodded in response. His head was much more of a mess than it had been before this conversation.</p><p class="western">Even if he was completely exhausted, it was hard for Blaine to fall asleep that night.</p><hr/><p class="western">Walking down the aisles, Blaine stopped every few shelves to put a book back in its spot. It was the quiet time before lunch period, and soon the library would be filled with boys who had forgotten to do their homework, or who preferred to use that time to get their work done so they wouldn't have to worry about it during the weekend.</p><p class="western">After graduating from high school at Dalton Academy, the prestigious school his father had attended, Blaine had gone to Ohio State to get a English major, and as soon as he was done with that, he transferred to a different school to get a master in Library Sciences. He loved books, he wanted to spend his life surrounded by them, and even though his dad had had his doubts about his son's future, Blaine was doing alright. Once he was done with his studies, he had been hired at his old school, and he was now in charge of the library in Dalton.</p><p class="western">He was comforted by the familiarity of the buildings, the uniforms, the teachers. It was a nice place to work, even if he didn't have a lot of career opportunities there, like his father had wanted for him. But there was one thing Mark Anderson had been wrong about, and that was Blaine's lack of ambition.</p><p class="western">Maybe he didn't aspire to become the president of the United States, or a billionaire with his own multinational company. Maybe he didn't want to be a scientist and discover the cure for cancer, or become a lawyer and work for the most important people in the country. But he had dreams, even if they weren't as big as his father thought they should be.</p><p class="western">He wanted love. He wanted a kind, sweet man he could go home to every night; a man who would eventually get down on one knee and ask him to marry him. He wanted the kind of romance he had often read about, but never really experienced. He wanted a family, a couple of kids, a nice little house with a picket fence where he could see them grow. He wanted a nice, full life. He was the first to admit he was a hopeless romantic. And when it came to work...</p><p class="western">Blaine knew exactly what he wanted in that aspect, too.</p><p class="western">He put the last book in the History section (third shelf, section D), and then walked back to the front desk and slipped behind the counter. He checked the time on the computer: it was almost lunch time, and Blaine was leaving earlier than usual today.</p><p class="western">It had been a couple of weeks since his father's death, and now that all the paperwork was done, Mark's lawyer had called Blaine and his mother to ask them to meet him at his office to go over his will. Blaine was sure it was merely a formality: he already knew that his father had arranged for most of his assets to go to his wife, Heather Anderson, and the rest to Blaine. Blaine knew it was probably going to be a substantial amount of money (after all, his father had been one of the three top men in one of Ohio's biggest finance companies), and he was planning to put his part in the bank, since he didn't really need it. He had a nice apartment and a job, a functioning car and enough food in his kitchen. That's all he needed.</p><p class="western">He started working on updating the catalogue on the computer while the library was still quite empty, and then once some students arrived, he helped them to find the books they needed. When he checked the time again, it was ten minutes before he was supposed to leave, and the assistant librarian that was going to replace him while he was gone for the afternoon was already there.</p><p class="western">He grabbed his things, put his jacket on and walked out of the school, crossing the parking lot to where the staff's cars were parked. Before turning the engine on, he texted his mother to let her know he was on his way.</p><p class="western">He had been seeing his mother a lot lately. He made sure to take her out to lunch or dinner every few days and to call her during the day even if he was busy. She seemed to be doing alright, but Blaine knew how overwhelming it could be to be alone with her memories in that big house, especially when she was still very deeply grieving.</p><p class="western">"I'll go back to my normal activities soon, dear, don't worry," Heather had reassured him the last time they met for lunch. "It'll take a little while to get back on my feet, but I'm doing okay. Life goes on, I guess."</p><p class="western">Her sad sigh hadn't convinced Blaine, not at all, really.</p><p class="western">At times like this, Blaine wished he wasn't an only son. He imagined how different things would be if he had an older sister, someone who already had a family of her own, so Heather could be distracted with playing with her grandchildren, to help her get some joy back into her life.</p><p class="western">Blaine stopped at a red light and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. It was a nice day, with the sun shining, a brilliant afternoon in early April. The school would soon close for the summer break in a few weeks, and Blaine would have nothing to do until the classes started again in September. Perhaps he could take his mother on some kind of trip? He hadn't travelled since he was still a teenager, and he knew Heather loved it. Maybe a week in Paris would cheer her up? Or lying on some nice beach in Italy?</p><p class="western">Blaine pushed those thoughts away momentarily when he arrived to the building where his father's lawyer's office was located. He parked the car and then went inside, taking the elevator to the forth floor, as he had been instructed to do during the phone call.</p><p class="western">His mother was already there, sitting in the waiting room. She was wearing an elegant and sober navy skirt and jacket. She almost looked like an executive and Blaine pulled her into a quick hug when she stood to kiss his cheek.</p><p class="western">"Have you been waiting long, mom?" He asked.</p><p class="western">"Less than five minutes, I think," she answered. "How was work?"</p><p class="western">"It was good," Blaine sat next to where she had been sitting and she followed suit. "I'm thinking I may be able to go back again if this goes quickly enough..."</p><p class="western">Before they could say anything else, the door of the office in front of them opened, and a young man around Blaine's age emerged, smiling politely at them and introducing himself before leading them inside.</p><p class="western">The office was tastefully decorated, and the lawyer – who had introduced himself as Steve Collins – invited them to sit on the two very comfortable chairs on the other side of his mahogany desk. There was a picture of a pretty blonde girl in a frame on it, next to his computer, and Blaine assumed it was his girlfriend. He wondered if he went home to her every night, if they were planning to get married, if they would buy a house with a picket fence…</p><p class="western">He realized Steve had started talking.</p><p class="western">"… so this is all quite routine," he was explaining. "If it's okay with you, I'll start reading Mr. Anderson's will now."</p><p class="western">He waited until Heather nodded quietly, and then he began.</p><p class="western">"I, Mark Anderson…" Steve began. Shortly after hearing his father's name, Blaine was lost again, zoned out in his own thoughts.</p><p class="western">Mark Anderson. His father. He was even more of a mystery to Blaine, after the conversation he'd had with his mother in the kitchen the night of the funeral. If he had been so proud of his son, if he had loved him as much as his wife assured he had, why hadn't he tried harder to have a closer relationship with Blaine? Why had he allowed his son to become a complete stranger to him? Blaine knew he hadn't been the easiest of teenagers: he'd always liked locking himself up in his room and losing himself in fantasy worlds, fictitious alternatives that kept him away from the reality that was his life. He had been taunted ceaselessly when he was in middle school, and it had only gotten worse after his classmates took his journal, where he had been writing a story, something he kept looking for in the books he read, but never found. A story where he could see himself, a story where the ending was exactly what he dreamed. It was the story of a lonely prince who was rescued by another prince. Worst of all, he had made the deadly mistake of giving that heroic prince the name of Brian Peterson, universally considered by all the girls – and him – the cutest boy in the school.</p><p class="western">Blaine had never been as embarrassed, as mortified, as when he had to sit at his table during lunch period, paralyzed by humiliation as he listened to one of the boys reading aloud his deepest dreams and fantasies in a mocking voice. He had cried himself to sleep every night for weeks after that. He had often pretended to be sick to avoid going to school, and when he had to attend, he had learned to walk down the hallways on his way to his classes, with his eyes on the floor and his shoulders hunched, trying to be invisible.</p><p class="western">That didn't stop the other boys from pushing him around and locking him in the janitor's closet for hours, though, led by the boy he was crushing on, but being invisible was the only thing he could think of that would make his life a little easier.</p><p class="western">Had that been the moment when he truly lost his father? When he missed his chance to be close to him, to be the son he'd always wanted to be? While he was trying to hide from everyone?</p><p class="western">Blaine forced himself to shake those thoughts away and turn his attention back to what the lawyer was saying. He was listing all of Mark's major possessions (two cars, the house in Westerville, the little cabin in Vermont), and declared all of them were now passing to Heather before moving on to the money Mark had been saving since he had started the company.</p><p class="western">"The five point four million dollars will be split as it follows," Steve read, and then paused for a moment to clear his throat. "Fifty percent will go to my wife, Heather M. Anderson. Thirty percent will go to my son, Blaine Devon Anderson. And the rest will be split equally and donated to the LGBT House Project and the Westerville Public Library."</p><p class="western">Blaine could only blink in surprise for a moment. Then, before Steve had time to continue, he finally found his voice.</p><p class="western">"Wait," he muttered, and he sounded a little breathless. "What does that mean? I don't…"</p><p class="western">Steve put the will down for a moment. "He told me when he wrote this that he knew those were two very important things for you. He said the LGBT House Project is an organization that helps teenagers who are homeless, after coming out to their families, find a place to stay, where they can continue their education. And he told me that the library was always a place very dear to you, a refuge where you spent a lot of time when you were younger."</p><p class="western">Blaine didn't notice his eyes had filled with tears until his mother put a hand on his and he turned to her to find her face was blurry. He wiped them away quickly, trying to think of something to say, but unable to find something appropriate. He ended up nodding, indicating to Steve that he could continue with the reading.</p><p class="western">He resumed where he'd left off, stating that Mark's share of the company would be split equally between the remaining associates, to be paid for an insurance policy, and the proceed divided equally between Blaine and his mother, but Blaine again barely listened. This time he wasn't distracted by his doubts, though.</p><p class="western">This time he was distracted because he was simultaneously sad and touched. He couldn't believe he had judged his father so wrongly. He had told his mother he had always known Mark Anderson was a good man.</p><p class="western">What he had failed to realize, was that he had also been a loving, proud father.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Blaine didn't go back to work at all that day after leaving the lawyer's office. He kissed his mother goodbye on her cheek, got in his car, and drove straight back to his apartment.</p><p class="western">After he had locked the door, locking the rest of the world outside, he slid down the wall to the floor and hugged his knees, overwhelmed.</p><p class="western">This changed <em>everything</em>.</p><p class="western">For his whole life he had been afraid of being close to his father, of telling him what he thought, what his dreams were, who he really was… and now he'd discovered that he could've had him on his side all along. Now he discovered that his mother's words in the kitchen were nothing but the truth (had he really been proud of Blaine?) and he had missed his chance. Now his father was dead, and he'd probably died just as deluded as Blaine had been. What if Mark Anderson had died thinking that his son didn't like him, much less love him? What if he had died thinking he had been a failure as a father, when Blaine had never opened up enough to let him in?</p><p class="western">But the contents of Mark's will proved to Blaine that he had listened to more than just what Blaine had actually said. He knew what was important to his son, and he had made sure that those things were included in his last wishes. He'd made absolutely sure that his son knew, even if it was too late, that <em>he </em>had been very important to <em>him</em>.</p><p class="western">In any other circumstances, Blaine would have been embarrassed to break down the way he did now. He wasn't a kid anymore, he was twenty seven years old, and he hadn't cried like this since he'd endured those horrible hurtful adolescent years at school.</p><p class="western">But this… this changed <em>everything</em>.</p><hr/><p class="western">"You look... really tired," Heather commented carefully, as she reached for her glass of lemonade. "Is everything okay, dear?"</p><p class="western">Blaine looked up at his mother, who seemed seriously concerned. "I'm fine, mom. I've... been thinking a lot, since I heard the terms of dad's will."</p><p class="western">Heather put her fork down and leaned over the table to show Blaine that he had her undivided attention. "What have you been thinking about?"</p><p class="western">"How thoughtful it was of him to make those donations to the things I care about," Blaine shrugged, his hazel eyes now focused on his salad to avoid his mother's gaze.</p><p class="western">"There's something else," she said softly, and Blaine sighed.</p><p class="western">They were in a nice restaurant. It was a pleasant Sunday and they were sitting outside in the terrace, enjoying the beautiful spring weather. Blaine believed his mother needed things like sunshine, flowers and lunch dates, to encourage a positive attitude.</p><p class="western">It felt wrong to darken such a lovely day with what was going through Blaine's mind.</p><p class="western">"I think, maybe..." Blaine gave up any pretense of being interested in his food. "I spent so much time believing he didn't care about me, and now, knowing he did… and the fact that I didn't give him the space he deserved in my life is killing me. I ruined what could've been..."</p><p class="western">"Blaine," his mother interrupted kindly. "Blaming yourself for something that 'could have been' is pointless. You were just an insecure kid. Neither of you knew how to get closer."</p><p class="western">"He died a month ago, mom, not ten years," Blaine retorted bitterly. "I wasn't a kid last Christmas when I sat at the same table as him and didn't make any effort to change things."</p><p class="western">"I still think you're being too hard on yourself," Heather insisted. "Your father didn't know how to change things between you either. I think donating to those places was his attempt to let you know that he cared. Even when he didn't say much, he was still always listening to you."</p><p class="western">Blaine closed his eyes. His mother had just echoed his thoughts at the lawyer's office. "I guess I'm just sad he had to die for me to realize how he really felt."</p><p class="western">Heather smiled sadly. "I know, dear, but there's nothing to be done about it now."</p><p class="western">They were silent for a few moments, letting their thoughts wander, grieving the man they both missed. The waiter stopped at the table to refill their lemonade and Heather appeared to deem his interruption as a good opportunity to move on.</p><p class="western">"Have you thought what you're going to do with your inheritance?" She asked as casually as she could.</p><p class="western">Blaine bit his lip thoughtfully. He had originally thought about putting it in the bank for when he wanted to buy a house, or get married. But now Blaine was second guessing himself. Had his father intended to encourage him to make his dreams a reality?</p><p class="western">"Well..." Blaine cleared his throat uncertainly. "I think I'm going to use his bequest to open the bookstore I've wanted since I was a kid."</p><p class="western">His mother seemed pleasantly surprised at his decision. "Really? Blaine, that's fantastic."</p><p class="western">"I love working at Dalton's library, and I love being a librarian. But I've always wanted to know what it would feel like to be my own boss, to have something that I created, to make the decisions..."</p><p class="western">Heather smiled, and Blaine thought that was the first heartfelt smile he had seen from her since his father had died. "You know, I think that's exactly what your dad would have wanted for you."</p><p class="western">Blaine felt a pleasant tingling of pleasure. "Do you really think he'd be okay with me using his money for that?"</p><p class="western">"Yes. I think he'd be more than okay with anything that makes you happy," Heather answered sweetly. Blaine felt a weight suddenly lift from his shoulders.</p><hr/><p class="western">Blaine had to stand on the tip of his toes to reach the Algebra book, and once he had it, he smiled triumphantly before handing it to the boy who had asked him for his assistance to find it. After thanking him, the boy turned and headed to a table with the book, so he could start working on his homework.</p><p class="western">Blaine went back to his desk, absently pushing up his glasses on the bridge of his nose, his attention back to the screen of his computer. Since he had presented his idea of the bookstore to his mother, Blaine had been looking for the ideal location online during his quiet times at the library and his even quieter nights at home. He knew exactly what he wanted, and now he just had to find it.</p><p class="western">He clicked through a few more pages without being interrupted by any of the students looking for a book, until he noticed someone standing near his desk, looking down at him.</p><p class="western">"Hi, Blaine."</p><p class="western">Blaine snapped his head up, recognizing the voice immediately and hating his immediate blush when he saw the tall, attractive blonde man staring at him with those disarming green eyes.</p><p class="western">"Uhm. Hi. Hi, Mr. Altwood," Blaine replied nervously, his hand instantly moving to his glasses to shift them up his nose, as he tended to every time he was anxious about something.</p><p class="western">The other man laughed lightly. "Oh, come on, Blaine. We're close to the same age! You can call me Josh," he winked charmingly.</p><p class="western">"You're a teacher here," Blaine pointed out needlessly, as if that explained his apprehension. "And you're the librarian," Josh shrugged. "Different title, but we have the same status." Blaine managed a little smile. "Right. Uhm. Can I do something for you, Josh?"</p><p class="western">"Actually, yes," Josh confirmed emphatically. He looked for a piece of paper in his pocket. "I was thinking about including some information from this book in one of my lessons, and I wanted to make sure there were enough copies available here in case the students need them for an assignment I'm giving them."</p><p class="western">Blaine took the piece of paper Josh offered and typed the name of the book to check the catalogue inventory. He was very aware of Josh's probing eyes on him the whole time, and he hoped his cheeks weren't still on fire.</p><p class="western">He really sucked at talking to hot guys.</p><p class="western">"We have three copies at the moment," Blaine informed him, slipping into his professional role as a shield. "If you think more will be needed, I could try talking to the dean..."</p><p class="western">"Oh, no, no, that won't be necessary," Josh smiled brightly at him. "But thank you." "Good," Blaine said, a little awkwardly, as he slid the paper back over the desk to Josh.</p><p class="western">"You know, I was wondering why..." Josh leaned intimately over the desk, his voice going a little lower, "I never see you in the staff room. We've both been working here for a while and I know practically nothing about you."</p><p class="western">Blaine once again pushed up nervously on his glasses, wondering why Josh would care. "There's really nothing very interesting to say."</p><p class="western">"I'm sure that's not true," Josh said, smiling in that way that was so unfair because it made him shiver in a mix of anxiety and excitement. "Would you go out for dinner with me this weekend?"</p><p class="western">Blaine blinked in astonishment. "Dinner? With you?"</p><p class="western">"Yes, with me. Do you like Japanese food? There's a lovely new place I've been dying to try," as he leaned even closer, Josh's voice was getting softer and lower, and it was <em>doing things </em>to Blaine.</p><p class="western">"Well, I..." <em>Say yes, say yes, say yes</em>. "I would lo-... oh, I actually can't," Blaine suddenly realized, terribly disappointed. He had made arrangements with an agent to visit potential locations for his bookstore and he had been excited about it all week. "I have several appointments this weekend and I... I don't really have time to move them..."</p><p class="western">Josh frowned briefly but then went back to smiling. "I understand. Why don't you let me know when you're free, then? We can reschedule whenever you want."</p><p class="western">Blaine apologetically nodded his agreement, then watched Josh turn with a wink and walk out of the library.</p><p class="western">Blaine barely managed to stop himself from banging his head against the desk mostly because a student approached him to check out a book. He didn't know Josh very well, but he seemed nice. He was certainly attractive, and it wasn't hard at all to picture Josh's face as the husband in his romantic marriage fantasies.</p><p class="western">But since Blaine was so stupidly shy, he would probably end up alone forever.</p><p class="western">He forced himself to take a deep breath and stop feeling sorry for himself. Not all was lost. Yes, he had to turn him down this time, but Josh had told him to let him know when he was free. The door hadn't closed yet, even if it was only ajar.</p><p class="western">Blaine just needed to be brave enough to push it open and walk through it next time.</p><hr/><p class="western">It was a disaster.</p><p class="western">None of the places Blaine saw were anywhere close to right. There was something critically wrong with all of them, and if there was one thing Blaine didn't want to compromise on, it was the place he had been dreaming of owning for years. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he wouldn't settle for anything less.</p><p class="western">He dropped his keys on the small table by the front door when he returned to his solitary apartment. It was nearly dark outside and he had been out since very early, going from store to store, without seeing anything that could conceivably work. He took his light jacket off and hung it in the closet before going into the kitchen, opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass. He took it with him to the living room, where he kicked his shoes off and set his glass on the coffee table before he flumped sullenly down on the couch. He was tired, and more than a little frustrated.</p><p class="western">He knew he had <em>just </em>started looking, but what if he never found the perfect place he could already imagine every flawless detail of in his head?</p><p class="western">Blaine shook his head glumly, dismissing the idea that it wasn't out there somewhere waiting for him to find it and took a sip of his wine before letting his head drop back against the couch. He was being ridiculous. It was just a bookstore. He would find the place eventually. It wasn't like he was desperate to leave his job: he loved working at Dalton. He just wanted to try something different.</p><p class="western">Being a librarian in the safe, secure world of Dalton Academy meant he was sheltered. He hid amongst the shelves and the books he loved, and only appeared if someone asked for his help, but he didn't take any risks. Having a business of his own, even if it was only a small bookshop, would change that.</p><p class="western">It thrilled him and it terrified him at the same time.</p><p class="western">But if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he wasn't going to give up his search until he found the perfect place.</p><hr/><p class="western">For the next few weeks, Blaine filled every spare moment he had with appointments to see every possible locations for the bookshop. The best time to give his dream a shot would be during the summer break, so he wouldn't have to leave Dalton at the end of the school's year, when he was needed most. If the bookshop became a success, he would be able to let the dean know he wasn't coming back with enough time to hire a replacement before the next term began. It would be a win-win situation for everyone.</p><p class="western">Once he had seen every prospective place in Westerville, Blaine started looking into the surrounding towns. That, and visiting his mother regularly was consuming all his free time, and weeks later he still hadn't taken Josh on his invitation to go out with him. Blaine promised himself he would call him when he had enough time, but he knew he was stalling because dating scared him, even if he didn't want to admit it to himself.</p><p class="western">"Do you want me to go with you for another opinion, Blaine?" His mother asked him one night, as they worked together making dinner. "Because I have the feeling you're being too picky…"</p><p class="western">"What's wrong with wanting it to be perfect?" Blaine retorted defensively as he mashed the potatoes.</p><p class="western">Heather simply kissed his cheek, silently smiling, and took a bowl of beans to the table. She knew what a big step this store was going to be for her bookworm son. When he was ready, he would get on with it.</p><hr/><p class="western">It had been a very long week, and an even more interminable day. Blaine would never understand why students left everything for the very last possible minute, why they couldn't study for a test earlier or would leave writing a paper until less than two hours before it was due, but regardless, the library at Dalton had been a continuos succession of erratic boys in blue blazers rushing in and out, as Blaine patiently helped them find books and reshelved the ones they'd abandoned.</p><p class="western">If he hadn't been as exhausted as he was on yet another store hunt with his agent, Blaine would have realized sooner that the place he had just walked into was the one he had been dreaming of finding forever.</p><p class="western">It was the third place he'd looked at that day, and he'd had to drive all the way to Lima to see it. The previous two hadn't been anything special, but this one…</p><p class="western">"It needs a lot of work," the realtor said, not even trying to sound enthusiastic anymore. She was convinced Blaine would never find what he was looking for, not after rejecting all the other stores she had showed him. "But the price and the location are well within your range," she added, in a desperate attempt to justify having to drive all the way to Lima.</p><p class="western">Blaine's hazel eyes took everything in: yes, it needed a lot of work. The floors were covered with a decrepit grey carpet, the walls needed patching and new paint, the ceiling had a few holes through which he could see a tangled skein of loose wires, so the electric system would definitely need to be inspected, and the tiny bathroom was moldy and damp.</p><p class="western">But it also had large bay windows that would allow the sunlight into the shop all day, making it cozy and welcoming, and the barren interior was actually part of its potential. He could do anything he wanted in here. Blaine took a few more evaluating steps inside, his imagination working at full speed, imagining the walls painted in warm colors, the place filled to the rafters with books shelved on nice wooden bookcases, and some comfortable chairs here and there. Perhaps knocking down that storage wall to make it even more spacious, to maybe add a little children's section on that side…</p><p class="western">"Okay, if you're done here, the next place I'll have to show you is on…" The realtor started to say, reading her listings without interest. It was evident she just wanted to get this day over with.</p><p class="western">"This place is perfect," Blaine interrupted her, still deep into his fantasy, but beginning to smile with excitement.</p><p class="western">The realtor's eyes went huge, hardly daring to believe it. "Are you sure?"</p><p class="western">"Yes." Blaine said decisively, as he turned to look at her. His hands were tingling, needing to start working, to start planning, to start making lists of everything he wanted to do. "How soon can we get possession?"</p><p class="western">She blinked and went through a binder she was carrying. "I don't have an offer here with me, but I could prepare one for Monday, and then it's up to the lawyers. The place is available now."</p><p class="western">"Monday it is," Blaine grinned.</p><p class="western">He couldn't wait to get started.</p><hr/><p class="western">Blaine signed an offer first thing that Monday, proposing a price thousands under what he would have been willing to pay, the asking price a bargain because of the rundown condition of the place. After that, he stopped by his mother's house to take her out for lunch to celebrate. They went to her favorite restaurant and, even though he had to go back to work after they were done eating, Blaine ordered champagne. Reasons to celebrate weren't very numerous lately, and he decided this one qualified as wonderful news.</p><p class="western">Heather reached across the table to take his hand after they had toasted to Blaine's dreams finally taking shape, and looked at him in the eyes. "You know, Blaine, dear, I understand that you won't be able to spend every spare minute with me any more…"</p><p class="western">"I like spending time with you, and I still will" Blaine replied immediately, squeezing her fingers gently.</p><p class="western">"And I'm really glad you do, but before your father died, I only saw you for dinner once a week, and that was only if you weren't busy," she leveled a knowing gaze at him. "Just because I'm a widow now, doesn't mean you have to be constantly by my side all the time, taking care of me. I'm not helpless."</p><p class="western">"Mom, don't be like that," he said sweetly. "Spending time with you and taking care of you aren't obligations. Those are things I enjoy doing."</p><p class="western">"I'm going to ask you a question, dear, and I hope you won't get mad at me, and you'll answer honestly," Heather leaned a bit more towards him. "When was the last time you went out on a date?"</p><p class="western">Blaine could feel the color rising in his cheeks and he took a sip of champagne to gain some time to compose himself. "Why does that matter?"</p><p class="western">"Because I'm pretty sure the only people you spend time with are the Dalton kids that go to the library, and me," Heather answered, and she was clearly worried. "You need friends your age, and you need to go out on dates, have fun, maybe find some romance…" She sighed and reached to tuck one of his curl that had broken out of the gel back in place. "You're not in high school anymore, Blaine. You're not a teenager anymore. You're a man, and you are allowed to live your own life. You don't need to hide amongst your books anymore."</p><p class="western">Blaine swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat. "That's a pretty funny thing to say when I'm about to open a bookshop…"</p><p class="western">Heather cracked a tiny, tight little smile. "You know what I mean." "Mom…" Blaine whispered, as a warning.</p><p class="western">"You've already spent too many years being lonely and unhappy, Blaine," Heather whispered back, the grip of her hand tightening slightly in his. "Don't you think it's time for you to change that?"</p><p class="western">Blaine wished he had an honest answer to give her.</p><hr/><p class="western">The spare time that Blaine had previously dedicated to find the place for his bookstore was now redirected to planning all the renovations he needed to create his new store from the shambles it was now. He had made a list of everything it should have, but when it came to rebuilding, rewiring, knocking walls down… he was useless, and he knew it. So he found a few phone numbers from handymen to consult with.</p><p class="western">He scheduled his initial consultation for Saturday morning. He arrived at the bookshop-to-be half an hour earlier, buzzing from excitement, with a medium drip he had gotten on the coffee place around the corner, the Lima Bean. He spread out all of his carefully-written ideas and plans on a small, creaky old wooden table he had found while exploring in the backroom after purchasing the place. The backroom was full of stuff he wasn't going to need, and others that could come in handy at some point, but he still needed to go through it all and sort it.</p><p class="western">He had also found a worn old armchair that he intended to reupholster, maybe change the ugly brown velveteen fabric for something more lively that he could possibly use in the children's area…</p><p class="western">He added that idea to the list, so he wouldn't forget.</p><p class="western">Blaine took a sip from his lukewarm coffee just as someone knocked on the grimy glass door (point number fifteen on his list: clean absolutely every inch of the glass to let in the light). He quickly stood up and moved to the door to unlock it, smiling with anticipation at finally beginning to make this dream a reality.</p><p class="western">And that was when his breath hitched and then abandoned him completely, because the most attractive man he had ever seen was standing before him.</p><p class="western">His chestnut hair looked as if he had just rolled out of bed, but somehow, instead of making Blaine want to offer him a comb and maybe some product to tame it, he wanted to run his fingers through it to gently smooth its thick tresses back. He had pink, luscious lips, and the pale skin of his jaw and chin was dusted with a light layer of stubble, below a scattering of faint freckles over his nose and cheeks. Blaine wished he would take off the black Ray-Ban wayfarer sunglasses so he could see what color his eyes were, but his attention was soon drawn to other areas of the man's body.</p><p class="western">He was wearing a tight, tight, <em>tight </em>white short-sleeved t-shirt, and the way it hugged his arms and chest made Blaine's mouth go dry. The pair of impeccably fitted tight washed-out jeans he wore were loosely cuffed over black leather combat boots.</p><p class="western">But what really made a heated shiver run down Blaine's spine was the leather tool belt hanging low around the guy's hips. He hadn't even <em>known </em>he had a thing for guys with tool belts… until <em>now</em>.</p><p class="western">The man cleared his throat and a sharp eyebrow arched over the rim of his sunglasses.</p><p class="western">"Oh," Blaine shook his head blankly as he felt his embarrassing, omniprescent blush making its way up his face. "Y-you must be Kurt Hummel. I'm Blaine Anderson." He extended a hand, hoping it wasn't sweaty but not wanting to make it obvious how nervous he suddenly was by wiping it on his pants first.</p><p class="western">"Yes, I'm Kurt," he answered, and his voice was a lot higher than Blaine had expected. He certainly hadn't sounded like that on the phone. Kurt's hand darted in and shook his so quickly that Blaine didn't have enough time to react, there and gone in a flash, as if he hated being touched by creepy guys with sweaty hands. "And now I understand what you meant when you said the place needed a lot of work."</p><p class="western">"Almost a full renovation, yeah," Blaine nodded as he moved aside to let him in. Kurt strode to the middle of the room and looked around, his hands propped on his hips brifly distracting Blaine, probably assessing the immense amount of work to be done. "I have a list of all the things I noticed that need work…"</p><p class="western">Kurt took his sunglasses off when Blaine handed him the list, and absently hooked them on the collar of his t-shirt as he took it. His eyes were stunning, a flash of blue that Blaine barely had time to appreciate before they were being lowered to read the list.</p><p class="western">"Electrical wiring needs to be completely redone, remove the carpet, knock storage wall down, renovate bathroom, fix ceiling, patch holes and paint…" Kurt looked around with his lips thinned, shaking his head in warning. "You really should just knock the whole place down and start over."</p><p class="western">Blaine smiled politely and readjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "That would have probably been easier, but, to be honest, I think making those changes and fixing only what needs to be fixed will be better because we'll keep the character of the place. I know exactly what I want it to look like, and building something from zero wouldn't give me that. This place feels right. It just desperately needs some help."</p><p class="western">"You need to start with all the electrical stuff first," Kurt commented thoughtfully, as he walked around. "It would make it easier to work on the rest once you have electricity for whatever tools and lighting you need. The natural light may not be enough to work in here sometimes."</p><p class="western">"Okay, electric stuff first, then," Blaine grabbed a pen, eager to start organizing the next steps. "Which wall do you want to knock down?" Kurt asked, expressive eyebrow going up in inquiry.</p><p class="western">"That one, the inside wall," Blaine said, pointing at it. "I want to open that section a little more, and as far as I can see, it just cuts the place up, and doesn't really serve any function."</p><p class="western">Kurt stepped firmly, listening as he flexed his leg repeatedly to thump on the floor. "Sounds like you have hardwood floors under this old carpet. Hopefully they won't be ruined when it's taken off."</p><p class="western">"What if they are ruined? Can they be replaced or refinished?" Blaine asked, pen paused on the notepad where he was writing everything down.</p><p class="western">Kurt simply nodded, obviously deep in thought. "What kind of store are you planning to open here?" Blaine beamed with enthusiasm. "It's going to be a book store."</p><p class="western">Kurt snorted dismissively. "A <em>book store</em>? In the middle of Ignorance, Ohio?" He rolled his eyes and smirked, barely holding his derisive. "Good luck with <em>that</em>."</p><p class="western">Blaine felt his enthusiasm falter. "L-lots of people still like to read."</p><p class="western">His captivation with the man disappeared as his insecurities made their way to the surface. What if this venture failed? What if his dream wasn't worth it?</p><p class="western">Kurt paced around a little more, pointing a few things he noticed that also needed to be checked or repaired. Blaine kept taking notes, but only halfheartedly. It felt like he was picking the place apart, searching flaw after flaw, though the lack of sufficient heating ducts was something he hadn't actually noticed before, imperative in an Ohio winter.</p><p class="western">"I need to make a few phone calls, and recheck my calculations, but I think by tonight I can email you an estimate of what it would cost you to get all this done by tonight," Kurt finally said. "But from what I've seen… I can already tell it's not going to be cheap."</p><p class="western">"Okay," Blaine obligingly wrote his email address on piece of paper and passed it to Kurt before putting his notepad down and recapping his pen. "I'll wait for your email, then. I'll probably let you know my decision by the end of next week. I wanted to confer with a few other people, too, so I guess I'll have to weigh my best options…"</p><p class="western">Kurt nodded, then unhooked his sunglasses from his shirt and slipped them on. He tucked the piece of paper with Blaine's email address on his jean's front pocket, and Blaine forced himself not to watch how the denim tightened even more as he did so. "Sounds fair."</p><p class="western">They shook hands again. Blaine's wasn't sweaty anymore, no longer nervous at all. "We'll be in touch, then."</p><p class="western">"Sure. See ya," Kurt turned around and walked out of the store, back out to the sunny Saturday morning, and climbed onto a black pickup truck.</p><p class="western">Blaine watched him drive away but he already knew that, no matter what, he wouldn't be calling Kurt back.</p><p class="western">He didn't want to spoil making his dream come true by hiring an asshole to help him. Even if he could really appreciate the sexy tool belt look, Blaine didn't want someone who had such a negative attitude about his dearly held hopes working here.</p><p class="western">No, that had been the first <em>and </em>last time Kurt Hummel would step into his soon-to-be-perfect-book store.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Was it actually possible that there were no construction workers, or handymen who were actually <em>good </em>at what they did? It wasn't possible that every single guy Blaine interviewed after the fiasco with Kurt Hummel seemed to belong to one of two groups: a) smug guys with no references who pretended to be an expert and wanted to charge Blaine an insane amount of money to likely screw everything up; or b) judgmental assholes that looked him up and down, and patronized him even worse than Kurt had. Blaine could feel a shiver crawling over him, wondering what would happen if those guys ever learned he was gay. It brought back too many memories of high school, years of dark memories he wasn't very eager to be reminded of.</p><p class="western">He didn't give up searching, though, because there was <em>no way </em>he was hiring Hummel.</p><hr/><p class="western">Blaine looked down at his list. "So, one of the things I want to do is to knock that wall down to open…"</p><p class="western">"Oh, no, that would be a terrible idea," said the latest man Blaine was showing around to get an estimate, shaking his head. "You'll ruin the carpet."</p><p class="western">"Oh, but that's okay," Blaine said, smiling. "I want to remove that, too."</p><p class="western">"Dude, no. You have no idea what you're doing," the man answered, with a condescending eye roll. Was his name Vic? Blaine couldn't remember after seeing so many others. He looked down at his list to see if he had written it down.</p><p class="western">Blaine adjusted his glasses on his nose. "Well, no, technically, I don't. But I know the carpet can be removed and the wall has to go though…"</p><p class="western">"You should really keep the carpet, dude…" he (yes, his name was Vic) insisted, around a yawn. Blaine neatly crossed his name off his list.</p><hr/><p class="western">"Oh, whoa, painting the wall that color would look so gay, man," the next guy said, laughing. Blaine didn't react. He just crossed his name off his list, too.</p><hr/><p class="western">"Yes, this definitely can be done," Blaine smiled as soon as those words were out of the man's mouth. He was a little older, maybe almost fifty, and had a heavy mustache. "But I'm going to need to hire at least three guys. It's a lot of work."</p><p class="western">Blaine's face fell a little. "Three? I know it's a lot, but this is such a small place…"</p><p class="western">"I can't do it with less than three," the man replied abruptly. He clapped his hands together, as if the discussion was over. "Now, let's go over the contract details. We'll be taking two meal breaks and a couple of coffee runs each day, and if you wanted to save yourself some time on the clock you could provide us with lunch and cold drinks and…"</p><p class="western">Blaine sighed and stopped listening.</p><hr/><p class="western">Typing away busily as he updated the book catalogue, Blaine reached for the cup of coffee he had put on his desk without moving his eyes off the screen, but his fingers didn't brush the ceramic mug, so he paused and looked to his left.</p><p class="western">And found himself looking right into Josh's amused eyes. "Hi."</p><p class="western">Blaine smiled and hoped he wasn't blushing already. "Hey. How are you?"</p><p class="western">"Well, I'm doing better now," Josh grinned and pushed the coffee a little closer to Blaine's hand so he could reach it. "What about you?"</p><p class="western">"I'm good, thanks," Blaine said, as he took a sip of coffee, to stop himself from staring at Josh.</p><p class="western">"I've heard you're opening a little business," Josh commented, leaning on the desk, apparently ready for a conversation.</p><p class="western">"Yes, it's a book store," Blaine answered, putting the coffee back down.</p><p class="western">"So I guess that's why you've been too busy to accept my invitation, huh?" Josh bit his lower lip, flirting so obviously that Blaine wasn't sure where to look.</p><p class="western">He tried to act as normal as he could. "Well, yes, to be honest. I'm having a hard time finding people to make the changes I want. I didn't know it was going to be so hard to find good construction workers."</p><p class="western">Josh chuckled. "Yeah, I know. I remodeled my apartment once and it was a nightmare." Blaine nodded, sympathetically.</p><p class="western">"I'm still hoping you will let me know when you're free, Blaine," Josh said, leaning just a bit closer, so Blaine could smell his heady scent. "I'm really looking forward to taking you out."</p><p class="western">Blaine stared at him enthralled, his hormones shutting down his brain and barely managed to croak "right."</p><p class="western">With a wink, Josh turned around and walked away. Blaine hurried to take another sip of coffee, since his throat seemed to be awfully dry for some reason.</p><hr/><p class="western">It was almost completely dark in the future little book store, the only light coming from the lamp post in the street. Blaine finished gathering his things after spending yet another fruitless afternoon, interviewing possible contractors and then walked out, securing the front door with his key, still amazed that he owned this place. He was on his way to make one of his dreams come true.</p><p class="western">Well, if he ever found someone to renovate the place for him, that was.</p><p class="western">As Blaine drove home, he started thinking of the choices he had to make. He'd interviewed at least a dozen guys and every one of them had been wrong. He was seriously considering taking some handyman classes and learning to do the work himself, but that would set him back a whole extra year. But most of the guys he'd interviewed could have been characters from The Simpsons, so at this point he was pretty much ready to settle for anyone who came close to competent.</p><p class="western">He entered his apartment, dropped his keys in the bowl by the door and stowed his satchel and jacket in the closet. It was very quiet, and as he walked towards the kitchen to see if there was anything he could make for dinner, he thought maybe it was time to get a cat. He could put a little bell around its neck so he could hear it as it moved from room to room, and then that constant feeling of aching loneliness would disappear. It would be nice having someone to cuddle with at night, too. And to have someone to tell about his day… even though he should like worry about his sanity if he started having conversations with a cat.</p><p class="western">Sighing forlornly, Blaine opened the fridge. There was some left over spaghetti from the night before and, frankly, after the day he'd had, nothing beat instant gratification. He didn't even bother putting it in the microwave. He grabbed a fork and a bottle of water and went into the living room, where he dropped onto the couch, crossing his ankles under himself, and turned the TV on, finding an old Buckeyes game. He left it on there to fill the silence, as he reconsidered his options.</p><p class="western">He closed his mouth around a forkful of spaghetti, and reached to turn on the computer on the coffee table. He ran the contractor search again, to double check that he hadn't missed any ads, rechecking every site he'd already checked. But he had already gone through all the possible options in the area.</p><p class="western">Blaine looked at the date on the corner of the screen. The school year was ending in less than a week, and if he wanted to open the book store this summer, he needed to make an immediate decision. He was out of time.</p><p class="western">He opened his email and went over the estimates he had saved from the few guys that had gotten far enough to send one. There were only four, and one of them had clearly thought Blaine was an idiot, who had no idea of much it should cost to do what he wanted to do, because the price he had sent him was enough to remodel the Buckingham Palace – twice. He deleted that one. He had the money, but he hated when people tried taking advantage of him like that.</p><p class="western">One of the others was the guy with the crew of assistants. Blaine was almost leaning towards him, even if his demands seemed completely irrational. His estimate was outrageous since he would be paying three extra guys to stand around half the time.</p><p class="western">The last two guys didn't sound good, either. One didn't do any electrical work, so he would need to hire an electrician first, and that could take a couple weeks more to find. And the last one… the last one was Hummel.</p><p class="western">Blaine knew he was being obstinate when it came to Hummel. The only real problem he had with him was his snotty attitude. It was obvious the man knew what he was doing, and that he wasn't trying to gouge him. He'd been quite professional in that aspect, but the snarky remarks really, really bothered Blaine. He would be spending quite some time at the book store with whoever ended up working there to ensure the place turned out the way he wanted it to, and Blaine had a hard time dealing with any situation that made him uncomfortable. And there was no way things wouldn't be uncomfortable with Hummel around.</p><p class="western">Blaine put the empty pasta bowl down and leaned back against the couch, trying to relax. Hummel seemed to be his only logical option. He was forced to chose between getting his dream under way and having to deal with someone's rude comments and repellent presence, or waiting for who knew how long until he found someone else.</p><p class="western">And, honestly, Blaine had waited long enough in his life.</p><hr/><p class="western">The next morning, Blaine was sitting at the library desk during the quieter hours before lunch and staring at his emails again. He had been trying to find some way around doing this since the night before. There was no easy solution, other than to tackle it head on.</p><p class="western">He finally fished his cellphone out of his pocket and dialed the number, pushed his glasses up on his nose, and then drummed his fingers nervously on the desk as he waited for the call to connect.</p><p class="western">"Hello," a bored voice said on the other said.</p><p class="western">"Uhm, hi. Mr. Hummel?" Blaine said, his voice rising nervously, as he shifted awkwardly on his seat. "The one and only. Who's this?"</p><p class="western">"It's Blaine Anderson. We met last week? You sent me an estimate for my…"</p><p class="western">"Oh, yeah, the book store. I remember," Kurt interrupted, and Blaine was sure he could hear a smirk on his voice. "I'd take a wild guess that you haven't given up on renovating that place yet, right?"</p><p class="western">Blaine took a deep breath to boost his fortitude. He could do this. "I was wondering… if you still want the job, when you could start working."</p><p class="western">There was a moment of dead silence as Kurt considered it. "I have to finish up on a job, but I'm pretty sure it'll be done by Wednesday, so let's say Thursday, just to be sure?"</p><p class="western">"Thursday sounds fine," Blaine nodded. "Is 9 a.m. a good time for you?"</p><p class="western">"Yeah, that's fine with me," Kurt answered impassively. There was no interest in his voice, no enthusiasm for a new job, not even a trace of gratitude. It made Blaine uneasy. Didn't he even want the job? "I guess I'll see you then."</p><p class="western">It was too late to change his mind. Blaine needed to get on with opening his book store. "See you then."</p><hr/><p class="western">Working the last few days of the school year were poignant for Blaine. He'd enjoyed working at Dalton, returning to where he had spent most of his teenage years as a student. Knowing that he might not be coming back after the summer break made him want to linger amongst the bookshelves, saying goodbye.</p><p class="western">But another part of him, really, really hoped that he would end up quitting his job as Dalton's librarian, because that meant he'd made his life-long dream a successful reality.</p><p class="western">And Blaine could really use more success in his life.</p><hr/><p class="western">When Blaine arrived to the bookshop on Thursday morning, Kurt was actually already there, leaning against his pick-up truck. He was wearing tight jeans and combat boots and that damn toolbelt again. His body-hugging V-neck t-shirt was white, and for a dazed moment Blaine forgot exactly why he hadn't liked Kurt when he first met him.</p><p class="western">And then Kurt opened his mouth.</p><p class="western">"You're still sure you want to spend all this money to open a book store here? Most people in this town wouldn't know a book if it hit them between the eyes."</p><p class="western">Blaine fished the keys out of his pocket to open the door, focusing on trying to keep the irritation off his face. He was going to have to tolerate Kurt's attitude, and there was nothing he could do about it. He needed to keep their interaction as professional as possible and not respond to his jibes, and maybe Kurt would give up making those comments.</p><p class="western">"The plan hasn't changed," Blaine answered politely. He made a gesture to invite Kurt in and watched him as he grabbed a tool box from the back of his truck before following him. "You said you'd start with the electrical repairs first, right?"</p><p class="western">"Yup," Kurt muttered, putting his stuff down on the floor before going back outside to grab a ladder. "I'm gonna have to break down more of the ceiling to get at that mess, but since it's already pretty damaged…"</p><p class="western">"Sure, if you have to," Blaine nodded. He put his satchel down on the armchair close to the window. He watched as Kurt began setting up his tools so he could start working. "Uhm. I think I'm gonna go to the coffee place down the street to grab a coffee and I'll be back soon."</p><p class="western">"Okay," Kurt replied absently, obviously not giving a damn about what Blaine did. He positioned the ladder under a gap in the ceiling and climbed the first couple of steps, stretching to test its strength. His white t-shirt rode up a few inches, revealing the pale, firm skin below…</p><p class="western">"Right!" Blaine said a little loudly, realizing he was staring. He grabbed his wallet, suddenly feeling very flustered. "I'll be back in a minute!"</p><p class="western">Kurt didn't even spare a glance his way, letting Blaine go without a word.</p><hr/><p class="western">Blaine had to wait in line to order coffee, and while he stood there staring blankly at the list of menu choices, he wondered how he was going to manage to deal with Kurt being around for however many weeks (<em>please, please don't let it be months</em>) it would take him to finish everything.</p><p class="western">He considered staying away as much as possible when Kurt was working and only occasionally showing up to check on his progress, but he would have to be around to make decisions if any problems appeared.</p><p class="western">But Blaine had been so ridiculously excited about seeing his book store rise from the ashes: he really wanted to see it become what he had always dreamed of, step by step.</p><p class="western">Blaine guessed he didn't have another option but to try to establish a friendly – a formally distant, completely professional – relationship with the man working for him. And the best way to begin that new relationship, he thought, would be with a cup of coffee.</p><p class="western">Because who didn't like to move past any sort of awkwardness with a nice, warm cup of coffee?</p><p class="western">"Hi, welcome to the Lima Bean. What can I get for you?" The girl behind the counter said with a smile when he made it to the front of the line.</p><p class="western">He had no idea what Kurt could like, so he went with something simple, which happened to also be his usual order. "Two Medium Drips, please."</p><p class="western">Blaine paid for the coffees and then moved to the end of the counter to wait for his order to be ready. Yes, this was an excellent way to start.</p><hr/><p class="western">Kurt stared down at the coffee Blaine was offering to him as if he had never seen one before. "What's this?" He asked gruffly.</p><p class="western">"Uhm. Coffee," Blaine answered, shifting on his feet uncomfortably when the other man didn't take the cup, which was currently scalding his hand. "I got you a medium drip. I didn't know what you liked, so I got you the same thing I always get…"</p><p class="western">"Why?" Kurt still didn't accept the proffered cup and Blaine was very, very close to just throwing it into the trash can and forgetting about making a peace offering.</p><p class="western">"I don't know? Because I thought it'd be a nice thing to do? Do I really need a reason?" Blaine frowned crossly.</p><p class="western">Kurt muttered under his breath, rolled his eyes in what seemed to be an equally terrible mood and practically ripped the coffee out of Blaine's hand without as much as a thank you.</p><p class="western">Blaine looked at him in wide-eyed astonishment, for a few seconds, at his unexpectedly boorish response.</p><p class="western">Kurt peeled back the plastic top and took a long swig of his coffee. Blaine watched him drink the scalding hot drink and winced. It must have burnt Kurt's throat the whole way down…</p><p class="western">"I have to go to the hardware store for supplies," Kurt said then. Blaine blinked. "Okay…"</p><p class="western">"It's just a few streets away from here, I should be back soon, if I can find what I need," Kurt informed him tersely. He drank the rest of his coffee and Blaine did not, he did <em>not </em>watch every muscle as Kurt's throat worked to swallow it. Kurt put the now empty cup down and turned on the heels of his heavy boots.</p><p class="western">He was gone before Blaine had processed exactly what had just happened.</p><hr/><p class="western">At first, Blaine thought that things would get easier as days passed, and they got used to each other. He'd hoped that Kurt wouldn't be so… edgy, all the time (and that didn't even begin describing how Kurt acted around him), but he had been wrong. He had been very, very wrong.</p><p class="western">Blaine decided he would focus on sorting the things that still remained in the back room once the electricity was back on, deciding which items he would keep and which he would donate. He would need the backroom empty soon, to store the books and the new furniture he'd started ordering.</p><p class="western">Kurt managed to get the electricity reconnected by the second day, working late into the first evening. Blaine almost clapped his hands in excitement. It had been quite uncomfortable, pretending to look busy by working on one of his many lists. He was grateful that the hollow silence of the empty store could at least be filled with him moving stuff around, and Kurt working with those big tools he was using.</p><p class="western">Blaine had to admit that the heavy tools made his arms look amazing in those fitting t-shirts…</p><p class="western">Shaking his head to get rid of those thoughts, Blaine walked into the backroom. Now that he had some better light, he realized just how much stuff had been dumped in that room. It would take days for him to go through everything…</p><p class="western">He smiled to himself, practically in delight. "You sure have a lot of garbage back here…"</p><p class="western">Blaine turned to find Kurt leaning against the doorway, his eyes (they were almost green today) taking everything in, clearly unimpressed.</p><p class="western">"Some things could be recycled. Others can be reused or repurposed," Blaine countered, trying to stay optimistic.</p><p class="western">"That's what people are going to say when they come in here to buy books and use them to light fires next winter," Kurt snorted sarcastically. "Actually, if you open before the fourth of july, you can take advantage of all the barbeques that need to be lit up."</p><p class="western">Blaine gritted his teeth. "Don't you have tools you need to be using?"</p><p class="western">Kurt rolled his eyes, but went back to work. Blaine took a deep breath and held back his temper.</p><p class="western">It was worth it, he needed to constantly remind himself of that. Getting the store ready to open was worth having to put up with Kurt Hummel.</p><hr/><p class="western">The tension made the days feel endless. Blaine wasn't enjoying seeing his book store take shape as much as he had thought he would, and it was all Kurt's fault, with his nasty attitude and snarky comments.</p><p class="western">Mostly, they maintained a bitter silence, both focusing on what they were doing to avoid each other as much as possible. Kurt always left for an hour at noon, presumably to grab some lunch, and Blaine stayed, enjoying having the peaceful place to himself and eating a sandwich he bought at the Lima Bean with his customary cup of coffee. Lunch was his favorite time of the day.</p><p class="western">He had already sorted through half of the contents of the backroom. He'd found a few nice things he wanted to keep, but many were going to charity. Others, even if it pained him to agree with Kurt, were nothing but garbage. He was piling them on a corner of the room to get rid of those some other time.</p><p class="western">Kurt had finished with everything related to the electrical system and was now working on the ceiling. Blaine resolved to stay away from him, in the backroom, minding his own business.</p><p class="western">Until he heard a loud noise and an equally loud "<em>fuck!</em>"</p><p class="western">Blaine rushed into the main room to find Kurt had descended from the ladder and was staring at a piece of the ceiling that had fallen down.</p><p class="western">"What happened?" Blaine asked, surprised.</p><p class="western">"This shit was weaker than I expected and it just plummeted to the floor…" Kurt explained and when he looked up, Blaine inhaled sharply.</p><p class="western">"You're bleeding," he muttered, immediately approaching Kurt to staunch it. Kurt frowned and touched his face, and came away with blood-stained fingers. There was a cut just above one of his eyebrows, dripping blood down the side of his face. "Here, let me help you…"</p><p class="western">"It's nothing," Kurt huffed. "It doesn't even hurt…"</p><p class="western">"You're bleeding everywhere," Blaine insisted, guiding him to the armchair, pushing him down gently so he would sit. "Maybe I should drive you to the hospital to make sure you don't need stitches…"</p><p class="western">"Don't be so dramatic, Anderson," Kurt rolled his eyes and tried to hide a wince. "Told you, it doesn't even hurt."</p><p class="western">"Sure it doesn't," Blaine said, with an eye-roll of his own. "Just let me take a look at it, alright?"</p><p class="western">Kurt was obviously annoyed by the attention, but Blaine ignored him. He put a gentle hand on his forehead to tilt his head back so the light would fall on his face. He instructed Kurt to stay like that while he rummaged into his satchel to find a clean tissue and quickly dabbed at the cut to see how deep it was.</p><p class="western">"It doesn't look very bad to me," he said after a few seconds, leaning closer to see if it was still bleeding. "It could've been a lot worse, with a piece of ceiling falling on you…"</p><p class="western">"I jumped back just in time," Kurt answered, and Blaine was suddenly awfully aware of how close they were when Kurt's breath warmed his neck as he spoke. "I'm sure it's just a scratch."</p><p class="western">Blaine pulled away, clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses. "Uhm. You should wash it and cover it with a band-aid or something. You don't want to have to deal with an unnecessary infection or anything…"</p><p class="western">"Right," Kurt stood up. "Well, I have a first-aid kit in my truck. So I'll go get it." "Yes." Blaine turned to return to the backroom. "That sounds like a good idea."</p><p class="western">"You should get some fresh air or eat something. You look so pale," Kurt commented, as he walked towards the exit. "If you faint, I'm not staying extra hours to take you to the hospital."</p><p class="western">Blaine forced a chuckle and then waited for his heart to go back to its normal pace.</p><p class="western">Kurt Hummel was an asshole. An attractive one, but still an asshole, and Blaine needed to remember that.</p><hr/><p class="western">If Blaine thought that showing concern for Kurt when he got injured during work was going to change things, he was so, so wrong.</p><p class="western">Kurt only got more rude and obnoxious as days kept passed. Fixing the ceiling was taking a lot more time than either of them had expected, the loose plaster frustrating both of them, and Blaine was starting to think he would never get rid of the moody man he had hired.</p><p class="western">If he had to do it again, he might not have chosen to put himself through this nightmare.</p><p class="western">So he contemplated suggesting something that might possibly help them move forward and make things quicker.</p><p class="western">"I was thinking…" Blaine said slowly from his place on the armchair where he was scanning through a lightning catalogue, pondering what kind of lamps he wanted to buy for the ceiling once it was completely done. "Maybe you could hire an assistant, so you could work faster, since you would be dividing the work between two people…"</p><p class="western">Kurt turned to him so abruptly that Blaine was surprised his neck didn't crack, his eyes narrowed at him.</p><p class="western">"You know, it would make things much easier for you. I would pay him, of course, you wouldn't have to. And I'm sure you probably have other jobs waiting…" Blaine continued, though the way Kurt was looking at him made him even more uncomfortable than usual.</p><p class="western">"I work alone," Kurt cut in a sharp, cold voice.</p><p class="western">"Oh," Blaine muttered, not knowing what else to say. "O-okay. I just thought I'd ask."</p><p class="western">"If you don't like the way I work, Anderson, you can just fire me and hire someone else," Kurt walked towards him, looking more menacing the closer he got. "But don't try to tell me how to do my job."</p><p class="western">"Never mind," Blaine tried to reassure him. "It was just a suggestion."</p><p class="western">"Well, I don't need your suggestions, and I sure as hell don't need a stupid assistant to get in my way. You do that just fine on your own," Kurt replied and he really seemed angry.</p><p class="western">Blaine didn't say anything. He just stared up at Kurt with his eyes as big as saucers.</p><p class="western">"Do you have any other <em>suggestions </em>or I can go back to doing what you're paying me to do?" Kurt said, and there was a kind of fire in his eyes that Blaine had never seen in them before.</p><p class="western">"N-no. No more suggestions," he muttered awkwardly.</p><p class="western">A brief silence fell over them like an icy layer of snow covering the fresh, green grass left behind by months of spring.</p><p class="western">"Good," Kurt's tone was harsh, distant.</p><p class="western">Blaine wondered exactly what he had done wrong and if his silly idea would end up making things even worse.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Blaine was so engrossed by the renovation that he had neglected doing anything that didn't revolve around the bookshop. His barren fridge told him if he didn't want to starve to death, he had better take time out to go shopping. So one afternoon, after Kurt was done for the day, Blaine drove to the grocery store he usually went to near his apartment.</p><p class="western">Being away from the book store didn't mean he was relaxing and thinking about other stuff. His mind was constantly reviewing his to-do lists and trying to find ways to help him endure yet another day of Kurt's company. Kurt had been withdrawn for a couple of days after Blaine suggested he get an assistant, but now he was reverting back to his normal snarky self, which meant the ceasefire was over and his unpleasant comments were slipping out again.</p><p class="western">Blaine headed for a vacant parking spot when he arrived, and smoothly slid in it before someone else did. He killed the engine and grabbed his totebag from the glove compartment (ecology was important, okay?).</p><p class="western">As got out of the car, his attention was drawn to the car parked next to his, where he instantly recognized the shiny hair and strong shoulders of the man putting his purchases in the trunk. Blaine's entire body shuddered in anticipation, as he strove to gather enough air into his lungs to manage a simple word of greeting.</p><p class="western">"Hi!"</p><p class="western">Josh turned around at the sound of his voice and a smile lit his face as soon as he discovered who it belonged to. "Blaine! Hi! What a surprise."</p><p class="western">"Yeah," Blaine self-consciously scratched the back of his neck. "I didn't know you came here."</p><p class="western">Josh shrugged. "I was driving by, I needed some groceries and it was open. That's good enough for me." Blaine smiled in response, not really sure what else to say.</p><p class="western">"So, how are things going? Are you still putting your book store together?" Josh asked, sounding genuinely interested, gratifying Blaine. For once, someone who wasn't his mother seemed to care about what he was attempting to do.</p><p class="western">"Yes, I just came from there, actually," Blaine answered. "There's still a lot to do, but at least it's well on its way."</p><p class="western">"That's great," Josh leaned against his car and his eyes fixed on Blaine. "So… does that mean you're still too busy to go out with me?"</p><p class="western">Blaine's stomach twisted awkwardly and he bit his lip, nervously. Didn't he deserve a nice guy in his life? Why was he so scared of saying yes to Josh? One date didn't mean they would get married and have kids. One date was only the first step, if he was ever going to have what he'd always wanted. A first date with Josh would enable him to have some fun, unwind, forget about how hard the past few months had been. And maybe he could learn if Josh could be someone special for him.</p><p class="western">If maybe he could be <em>the </em>one and only guy for him.</p><p class="western">Blaine took a deep breath, let his gaze fall to the ground for a moment, focusing on the dark pavement under his feet. Then, he adjusted his glasses and looked back up to Josh, saying hesitantly, "I-I'd like to take you up on that offer?"</p><p class="western">Josh's smile grew even wider, even brighter, and Blaine was sure his heart skipped a few beats, captivated by the crinkles in the corners of his eyes.</p><p class="western">If he was going to change his life, he was going to do it right.</p><hr/><p class="western">By the time Blaine made it back to his car after getting his groceries, he was almost ready to start hyperventilating.</p><p class="western">He had a date.</p><p class="western"><em>Shit. Fuck</em>. He had a <em>date</em>.</p><p class="western">What the hell was he going to wear?</p><hr/><p class="western">It wasn't that Blaine had <em>never </em>been out on a date before. Of course he had. Maybe not as many as he would've liked, but he had gone out with a couple of guys in college, even if most of the time they didn't get to a second or third date.</p><p class="western">It was ridiculous to feel so nervous about dating now. He wasn't a kid anymore.</p><p class="western">But wasn't that the point? He wasn't a kid anymore and he hadn't had a boyfriend in <em>ages</em>. He didn't want to wait forever to find the perfect guy. He didn't want to be fifty before he finally got to adopt kids.</p><p class="western">Fine, maybe he was rushing things, leaping years ahead into a happy future, with a man he hadn't even gone out with yet. Maybe Josh wasn't the guy he was supposed to end up with, but… what if he was? What if Blaine could finally stop being so hopelessly alone?</p><p class="western">Blaine knew that if he went on like this, he would end up driving himself crazy. He <em>was </em>going crazy. At this rate, he would end up throwing up out of sheer nerves. Probably on Josh. During their first – and last date.</p><p class="western">He grimaced. He couldn't let that happen, so he needed to calm down.</p><p class="western">Blaine took a deep breath. He still had a couple of days to find a way to not make a huge fool out of himself.</p><hr/><p class="western">"You have a date?!"</p><p class="western">Blaine grimaced as he pulled the phone away from his ear at the excited squeal coming from the other end. He closed his eyes, patiently. "Yes, Mom. A date."</p><p class="western">"With a man, right? Not with some person you have to interview for the book store? We're talking about a <em>real </em>date?" Heather said eagerly.</p><p class="western">Blaine moved around the kitchen, the phone tucked under his neck, pouring coffee and checking that his toast hadn't burned at the same time. "Of course it's a real date…"</p><p class="western">"I was just checking, dear," Heather replied sweetly. "You can be so stubbornly introverted sometimes. But I'm glad you finally decided to come out of that shell you were hiding in. This will be really good for you."</p><p class="western">"Mom," Blaine muttered, a little embarrassed. "It's just a first date. It doesn't have to mean anything…"</p><p class="western">"Yet," she replied firmly. "But that doesn't meant it won't be, at some point. I'm just happy you're doing something about it, Blaine, going after your happiness…"</p><p class="western">As he spread some cream cheese on a piece of toast, Blaine couldn't help but smile. Knowing how important his happiness was to his mother sent warmth all over him.</p><p class="western">"Now, tell me all about him. What's his name? Where did you meet him?"</p><p class="western">Blaine smiled. "His name's Josh and he's a teacher at Dalton. He asked me out several times but I was too busy to accept at first…"</p><p class="western">"I'm glad he persevered, then," Heather said. "When is the date?" "Tomorrow night," Blaine answered, feeling anxiety bubbling in his stomach.</p><p class="western">"Then the day <em>after </em>tomorrow, you and I are going out for lunch, so you can tell me all about how well it went," she exclaimed, and she sounded so enthusiastic about it, that Blaine didn't have the heart to tell her he had to be at the book store. Maybe he would just have to give Kurt a key so he could let himself in. "There's a lovely new bistro I'm dying to try."</p><p class="western">They decided to meet there, and Heather promised she would text Blaine the address later. She also offered to help him shop for something to wear for his date, but Blaine assured her he had already picked something out. They said their goodbyes and then it was just Blaine, his coffee and the echoing silence of his apartment.</p><p class="western">He wondered for how much longer that silence would be such a big part of his life.</p><hr/><p class="western">With an arched eyebrow, Kurt looked down at the silver key lying on his palm. "What is this?"</p><p class="western">Blaine crossed his arms over his chest. "It's a key."</p><p class="western">"No shit. I thought it was a puppy," Kurt's cold blue eyes rose to his, eyeing him guardedly. "Why are you giving me a key?"</p><p class="western">"I have to meet someone for lunch tomorrow, so I won't be in to open up, in the morning. You can let yourself in, and I'll come back here when I'm done," Blaine explained calmly.</p><p class="western">Kurt slipped the key into the back pocket of his jeans. "You don't need to be here <em>all </em>the time, you know," he said, as he turned around to rummage into his toolbox, looking for something. "I'm perfectly capable of doing my job without you supervising me."</p><p class="western">"I'm not here to supervi-…" Blaine abruptly shut his mouth when Kurt glared over his shoulder at him incredulously. "Fine. Maybe just a little." He ran his hand through his hair, immediately stopping himself when he felt the gel on his fingers. "I've wanted to open this book store for a very long time. I want to be part of the process, even if I'm not entirely useful sometimes."</p><p class="western">"Most of the time, I'd say," Kurt huffed under his breath, rolling his eyes.</p><p class="western">Blaine frowned. His gaze followed Kurt, and he could feel the words coming up his throat even though he really wanted to hold them back.</p><p class="western">"Why do you dislike me so much?"</p><p class="western"><em>Damn</em>.</p><p class="western">Kurt arched an eyebrow at him again. He seemed mildly amused by the question. "Excuse me?"</p><p class="western">"You're really kind of rude," Blaine shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant and hoping he wasn't coming across as hurt.</p><p class="western">"Well, don't take it personally. It's not that I don't like <em>you</em>," Kurt replied, as if it was obvious. Blaine felt even more confused by his casual reaction to being called rude. "It's not?"</p><p class="western">"Nope," Kurt said, obviously bored already. "Don't feel like you're anything special, because I don't like <em>anyone</em>, Anderson."</p><p class="western">And with that, he turned on whatever electric tool it was that he was holding, and the sound filled the room, keeping Blaine from responding, assuming he could think of anything to say.</p><p class="western">He wasn't sure if he would ever understand Kurt, or why he gave a damn about it either.</p><p class="western">In just a few weeks (<em>please, please let it be weeks, and let it be only a few</em>), Kurt Hummel would be done and gone, and Blaine wouldn't have to see him again. Ever.</p><p class="western">He really couldn't wait for the day to arrive.</p><hr/><p class="western">Later that day, Blaine waited impatiently until Kurt finished gathering his things. It seemed like the man took forever putting all his tools away and taking them to his truck. Blaine fidgeted by the door, his satchel hanging on his shoulder, ready to hurry home to his apartment as soon as Kurt was done.</p><p class="western">"Jesus, Anderson, are there ants in your panties?" Kurt muttered, frowning at him with one of his signature eyerolls.</p><p class="western">"<em>No</em>," Blaine answered, before he realized it was actually ridiculous to even bother giving Kurt any sort of answer. "I just need to go, alright?"</p><p class="western">Kurt grabbed his jacket and his bag from where he had hung them on the back of the armchair that morning and strolled annoyingly slow towards the door.</p><p class="western">The bastard was doing it on purpose to get on Blaine's nerves.</p><p class="western">When he saw Blaine's hazel eyes flashed with anger, he smirked. It was just too easy to mess with Blaine…</p><p class="western">Blaine closed the door with a lot more force than necessary and then rushed towards his car without sparing another look at Kurt. He had more important things to do that night.</p><hr/><p class="western">His reflection seemed a little pale when Blaine looked at himself in the mirror. He took a few steadying breaths, and let his eyes roam down to check his outfit instead.</p><p class="western">He was wearing a dark purple shirt and black pants that hugged his hips and thighs quite nicely, if he could say so himself. He thought about adding a bowtie to his ensemble, but it was a very warm summer evening and he was already starting to sweat out of nerves. He decided to unbutton the first two buttons on his shirt and roll his sleeves up to his elbow carefully. He still looked neat and composed, and he would be able to breathe easier. He <em>really </em>needed to be able to breathe tonight.</p><p class="western">Blaine took another glance at himself. He adjusted his glasses on his nose, considering taking them off and switching to contacts for the occasion. He hated wearing his contacts, because the next day his eyes were all red, but maybe he would look better in them...</p><p class="western">He walked into the bathroom and put them in. He could make one little sacrifice for his date. "Okay," Blaine whispered, appraising the final result. "I could look a lot worse."</p><p class="western">He turned the bathroom light off and walked into the living room. Josh was supposed to pick him up in ten minutes, so Blaine busied himself pretending to read a magazine that he had left on his coffee table earlier. When reading proved to be pretty much impossible, he just settled for looking at the pictures, flipping quickly through the magazine without seeing it.</p><p class="western">The doorbell rang while Blaine was reconsidering changing his shirt. And maybe the pants, too. And the belt wasn't as shiny as his shoes; should he change those, too? Shaking all his misgivings from his head, he walked quickly to the door (he certainly didn't <em>sprint</em>, of course not) and took one last deep breath before pulling it open.</p><p class="western">Josh was standing there, wearing jeans that made his legs look sinfully long, and a green shirt that brought out his eyes, with a light jacket on. He was smiling at Blaine in a way that made his stomach swirl. "Hi, Blaine."</p><p class="western">"Hi," Blaine answered, a bit breathless. He was sure he must have smiled back, but he was too busy looking at the handsome man at his door to really pay much attention.</p><p class="western">"Are you ready to go?" Josh asked, with his hands stuffed in his pockets.</p><p class="western">"Yes, just let me..." He turned to the bowl on the table next to the door and grabbed his keys and wallet. "Ready."</p><p class="western">When they were in the car, Josh turned on the AC and soon there were goose bumps rising on Blaine's bare forearms. They chatted amicably after Josh asked him to choose a radio station, the conversation easily falling on what kind of music they liked.</p><p class="western"><em>This is easy</em>, Blaine thought with a relieved sigh. <em>He's easy to talk to. It'll be alright. I have nothing to worry about.</em></p><p class="western">He was a lot calmer by the time they made it to the restaurant. Josh found a spot in the parking lot and turned to Blaine after cutting off the engine.</p><p class="western">"I hope you like Mexican food," he said, still smiling. "This is the best Mexican restaurant in all of Ohio." "I love Mexican food," Blaine answered with a smile of his own.</p><p class="western">The waitress guided them to a table reserved for two by the window, gave them their menus and then said she'd be back to take their orders in a few minutes.</p><p class="western">Blaine looked around. It was a nice restaurant, tastefully decorated with photographs of Mexican plazas hanging on the walls. Soft music was playing on the background, and from what he could see on the tables around them, the food seemed appetizing and colorful.</p><p class="western">When he turned back to Josh, he found him staring at him intently from across the table. Blaine hoped he didn't blush, as he looked back down to the menu attentively.</p><p class="western">"I don't think I mentioned how hot you look without your glasses," Josh murmured softly. Blaine smiled shyly. "Thanks. I don't wear my contacts often. They're not very comfortable."</p><p class="western">"You should give your eyes a chance to shine more often," Josh winked and then started reading his menu, reminding Blaine that the waitress would come back soon.</p><p class="western">They both ordered fajitas, and Josh ordered a bottle of wine. The conversation went to the usual date topics: movies, books (Blaine had a lot to say about this, before he realized he was monopolizing the conversation), and other hobbies. Josh was always smiling and he leaned in closer to Blaine, listening attentively. Blaine caught him staring at his lips several times. Every now and then Josh would interrupt him, in a low voice, to brush his fingers on Blaine's hand or arm, and say "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?</p><p class="western">I wasn't paying attention. I just can't stop thinking about kissing you", which made Blaine turn almost crimson, and babble incoherently into his glass of wine. He felt like a twelve year old girl.</p><p class="western">"So tell me more about that book store of yours," Josh said as he refilled Blaine's glass. "When's the big opening?"</p><p class="western">"Oh, I still don't know for sure," Blaine replied. "There's so much work to be done. I think it'll take another couple of weeks until I can set a date."</p><p class="western">"Are you going to work there yourself or are you hiring someone?"</p><p class="western">"Once it's opened?" Blaine asked, wondering for a second if he meant the renovations. When Josh nodded, he continued. "My plan is to do it myself, yes. It's what I've always wanted to do."</p><p class="western">Josh hummed, with a bit of a faux pout. "Uhm. Pity. You'll be missed at Dalton." Blaine shrugged dismissively. "I'm sure they can find a good librarian to replace me."</p><p class="western">"Certainly not one as attractive as you are, though," Josh leaned across the table, making his heart thump against his ribs at the proximity of those green eyes.</p><p class="western">"Oh... I..." Blaine bit his lip, as he struggled to find a response, but saved by the waitress when she came to collect their empty plates and offer them dessert.</p><p class="western">"No dessert for us, thanks," Josh said decisively, before Blaine could even think if he wanted some. "Just the check."</p><p class="western">Blaine deflated a little. Was he boring? Was his bashfulness upsetting Josh? Why did he seem so eager to leave? He tried not to show how disappointed in himself he was. At least Josh had stayed during the entire dinner. He probably had wanted to leave the moment they sat at the table.</p><p class="western">Blaine tried to pay his half of the meal, feeling bad that Josh had to pay for a date he clearly hadn't enjoyed, but Josh wouldn't hear a word of it, and he slipped his credit card to the waitress. Blaine thanked him in a somber voice and waited patiently until they could go back to the car, so he could let the poor guy drive him home.</p><p class="western">The drive back to Blaine's apartment was almost silent, and Blaine was grateful for the music playing on the radio, taking up the empty space between them. His hazel eyes stayed fixed out the window. He just wanted to get home and grab a book. Reading would make him forget and feel better...</p><p class="western">Josh stopped the car when they arrived to Blaine's building. He immediately unbuckled his seatbelt and reached for the door.</p><p class="western">"Thanks so much for dinner," he said, still avoiding looking directly at Josh.</p><p class="western">Suddenly, there was a hand on his knee, stopping him from getting out of the car. Blaine turned to him and saw that Josh was smiling at him.</p><p class="western">"Let me walk you to your apartment," he said in almost a whisper. Blaine nodded dumbly.</p><p class="western">Blaine fidgeted with his keys all the way up to his floor, trying to compose a heartfelt apology for disappointing Josh that didn't sound pitiful. When they finally made it to his door, he turned but Josh caught him off guard, sneaking an arm around his waist, and pulling him closer. Suddenly, a pair of warm lips was pressing against his.</p><p class="western">In his shock, it took Blaine a few seconds to kiss back, but when his brain caught up with the situation, he wrapped his arms around Josh's neck and parted his lips lightly, letting Josh's slide against his softly.</p><p class="western">Soon Josh had Blaine pressed against the door, kissing him deeply, and their bodies were touching almost completely, from head to toe. Blaine felt warmth shooting through his veins, and he made a vague attempt to remember when had been the last time a man had held him like that, kissed him like that. It felt so compelling, like Josh could make him forget his years of loneliness by moving his mouth on his.</p><p class="western">"It might be presumptuous of me to ask, but..." Josh said between kisses, so close to Blaine that his breath warmed his cheek. "Can I come inside?"</p><p class="western">It was hard for Blaine to think when Josh's tongue was pushing its way into his mouth. Blaine had never been the kind of guy who would take things to bed in his first date, which was probably one of the reasons why some men hadn't really bothered to come back. But too much <em>need </em>and <em>want </em>were swirling inside of him, and Blaine couldn't see much similarity between Josh and those other guys. He had a good feeling about them. He wasn't sure how he knew that, but Blaine was certain saying yes wouldn't be a mistake.</p><p class="western">He stopped kissing Josh long enough to turn around and try to fit the key in the lock. Immediately, Josh started kissing the back of his neck, his hands tightening on Blaine's hips as he pulled him against his overheated body. Blaine's fingers were shaking as he did his best to get the door to open, and he might have done a little victory dance when he finally managed it, except Josh slammed the door closed and pushed him against it again, as soon as they were inside.</p><p class="western">Blaine pulled away, trying to remember to breathe and recall his manners, as Josh kissed down his jaw and neck.</p><p class="western">"I... w-would you like something to drink?" He offered with a gasp, his words followed by a low moan he emitted involuntarily, when Josh nibbled on that spot on his neck where he was particularly sensitive.</p><p class="western">"Not really," Josh replied, sucking his ear lobe into his mouth. His hands wandered to Blaine's stomach, feeling the muscles there. "Why don't you show me where your bedroom is?"</p><p class="western">Blaine inhaled sharply. Josh's touch seemed to be burning him even through his clothes. He whimpered when Josh sucked on the bit of skin that peeked through the unbuttoned part of his shirt and his hands flew to Josh's head, fingers tangling in his hair.</p><p class="western">"Come on, Blaine," Josh groaned. "Tell me where your bedroom is..." he licked his way up to Blaine's lips again, speaking right against his skin. "Unless you want me to fuck you right here against the door..."</p><p class="western">Blaine whimpered helplessly one more time, whatever remaining air he had in his lungs leaving him in a rush. "D-down the hallway. S-second door."</p><p class="western">Josh didn't stop kissing him as they stumbled through the apartment, undressing each other in a hurry, knocking a lamp to the floor, until they arrived to Blaine's room.</p><p class="western">They kicked the door closed behind them. Only the trail of discarded clothes and the moans coming from the bedroom were signs that the apartment wasn't as empty as it usually was.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">It couldn't have been more than fifteen or twenty minutes since he had dozed off. Blaine's body was pleasantly relaxed and boneless, practically melted into the rumpled sheets of his bed. He hummed in contentment and rolled over, searching for the warm body he knew was lying next to him.</p><p class="western">Except, it wasn't there.</p><p class="western">Blaine blinked his eyes open in confusion, and then realized that what had actually woken him up, was the movements of the man putting on his underwear and pants. The sound of a zipper resonated loudly in the silence of the night.</p><p class="western">"Josh?"</p><p class="western">Josh turned to him and even in the darkness Blaine was able to see his eyes glance at him in surprise. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."</p><p class="western">"It's fine," Blaine rose to his elbow, and reached to turn on the lamp. "What's going on?"</p><p class="western">"Nothing," Josh answered levelly, kneeling to search for one shoe, thinking it might have gotten kicked under the bed. "You can go back to sleep if you want."</p><p class="western">Blaine frowned as he watched him. "Are you… are you leaving?"</p><p class="western">"Yeah," Josh replied. He found one of the shoes, but the other was nowhere to be seen. "Fuck. Where the hell is my other shoe?"</p><p class="western">Blaine didn't even bother looking down. "Uhm. You know, you can stay the night here. You don't have to go home. You can sleep here until the morning …"</p><p class="western">"Yeah, I don't really do morning-afters, sorry," Josh muttered absently, standing to consider where it might have gotten flung in the heat of the moment.</p><p class="western">Something felt wrong. Something felt very, <em>very </em>wrong. Blaine tucked the sheets tighter around his waist, feeling too exposed. "Josh…"</p><p class="western">"Blaine, seriously, just go back to sleep," Josh turned around, scanning the room.</p><p class="western">He wasn't sure if what he was feeling was anger or hurt, or maybe a mix of both. Blaine tried to stop himself from letting the question slip through his lips, but he failed. "Did I do something wrong?"</p><p class="western">Josh chuckled. "No, believe me. You did <em>everything </em>exceedingly well." "But, I…"</p><p class="western">"Blaine, look…" Josh sighed, sounding a bit frustrated with him being so slow to understand. "I'm really not looking for a boyfriend, so if you thought that is what this was, I'm sorry… this was just the two of us having a good time."</p><p class="western">"You asked me on <em>date</em>," Blaine replied, sounding upset now, his hands forming fists in the sheets. "Several times."</p><p class="western">"I'm quite sure I never used the word <em>date</em>," Josh said thoughtfully. "I'm usually very careful about that. I wanted to go out with you. Why can't you just accept that we both had some great sex and move on?"</p><p class="western">"Because I don't do stuff like this!" Blaine exclaimed, irritated. "I don't sleep with random guys just for fun! I don't do one night stands!"</p><p class="western">Josh found his shoe where it had slipped under the dresser. He turned to Blaine with an arched eyebrow, as he bent to put it on. "You'd better look around very carefully, Blaine, because that's <em>exactly </em>what you just did."</p><p class="western">And without saying another word, Josh walked out of the bedroom, out of the apartment, and out of Blaine's hopeful heart.</p><hr/><p class="western">Blaine didn't really sleep much that night. Once he was over the shock of Josh leaving (<em>just like that. He just got out of bed and </em>left <em>like it meant nothing to him</em>), he got up, went into the bathroom and took a very long, long shower. He hadn't felt this soiled, used, and worthless in his entire life.</p><p class="western">How had he been so stupid? How hadn't he seen the signs? Now that he thought back to their date (<em>it wasn't even a date</em>), he felt like he should've known without Josh having to spell it out in black and white for him. Josh had not been paying much attention to anything he had to say, and every flirty comment seemed to be about Blaine's looks. Josh had likely taken him out to dinner just to reimburse him for being a good fuck (<em>oh my god, I was just a fuck</em>), but hadn't bothered with any pretenses once he'd gotten what he wanted.</p><p class="western">He scrubbed himself with soap vigorously, his skin turning pink and raw, but he still felt dirty. He tried telling himself that everyone had one night stands, that this wasn't that bad, that he should calm down… but this wasn't who he was. This wasn't what he believed in, what he thought he deserved.</p><p class="western">He changed the sheets, sure that he could still smell Josh all over his bed. He put fresh ones on, and got into bed, but he couldn't find his way back to sleep. He couldn't find enough peace to simply close his eyes and let go. He just kept thinking over and over, that he was such an idiot, fantasizing about a future with someone who didn't care about him.</p><p class="western">And who would want a boyfriend like him? He stuttered nervously everytime he met a cute guy, blushed like a virgin, and he looked and acted like a nerd who only experienced life through the pages of his books.</p><p class="western">If that was all he truly was, maybe there was no point in longing for something he would never find.</p><hr/><p class="western">Blaine seriously considered calling his mother the next morning and asking her to reschedule their lunch, but he didn't. He would feel guilty cancelling on such short notice, and he desperately needed a distraction, to erase the images of the previous night. It was stupid to mope and feel sorry for himself.</p><p class="western">He dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom for another lengthy shower. He still felt sort of dirty, like he was wearing someone else's skin. He pressed his forehead against the cold tiles and let the water run down his back, as he closed his eyes and once again willed the sordid images from the previous night to leave him alone.</p><p class="western">Usually Blaine carefully considered what to wear before he went somewhere. Even if he was going to work, or to the grocery store, he always liked to look neat, clean, elegant. But today, he simply pulled the doors of his closet open and donned the first pair of jeans and a red short sleeve t-shirt before leaving the apartment without giving it a second thought. It was only when he was already on his way to the restaurant that he recalled that the jeans were the ones he didn't wear anymore because they were a size too small. But if he went back to his apartment to change he would probably be late, so he just grumbled in annoyance that nothing was going right for him. When he stopped for a light, he checked his cellphone for the text message where his mother had sent him the previous afternoon, missed his turn and had to circle around again.</p><p class="western">He arrived at the restaurant ten minutes late, continuing his run of bad luck. He found a parking spot and got out of the car, and tried unsuccessfully to shove his keys, wallet and phone into the back pocket of his too tight jeans, and groaned resentfully at how this whole day was going. He hoped his mother hadn't been waiting for too long…</p><p class="western">Except that, when he got inside, he couldn't see her sitting at a table anywhere. He looked around fruitlessly, before he asked a waitress, but it seemed that she wasn't there yet. Blaine was taken to a table for two near the back of the restaurant and ordered a glass of water while he waited.</p><p class="western">In other circumstances, he would've appreciated the ambiance of the place. It was big enough for a destination restaurant but still managed to look cozy and shabby-chic at the same time. There were several potted plants here and there and nice pictures hanging from the walls, and the round wooden tables looked all different from each other, as if they were unique pieces bought at an antique store. So were the chairs: the one Blaine was sitting on had dark wood and a soft light green fabric covered the seat; the one his mother was going to occupy had wood just as dark, but the armrests were hand-carved with figures of birds and flowers. It was a lovely detail, and Blaine would've spent more time studying it if he wasn't still consumed by the wretched thoughts swirling about his head.</p><p class="western">Heather made her way into the restaurant fifteen minutes later, just as Blaine was becoming increasingly worried. His mother wasn't the kind of woman who was late, so as soon as he saw her approaching, he straightened in his seat and looked at her earnestly, knowing there was a justifiable explanation.</p><p class="western">The first sign that something significant was wrong were her eyes. They were a little puffy and red- rimmed, and they lacked the sparkle he was so used to seeing in them lately.</p><p class="western">"Mom?"</p><p class="western">She took a deep, steadying breath and tried to smile, failing horribly. "I'm sorry I'm so late."</p><p class="western">"It's okay," Blaine hurried to say, reaching for her hand, resting limply on the table, while the other seemed to be holding onto her purse with a death grip. "What's going on? What happened?"</p><p class="western">It was unusual for Heather to fall apart, but she simply couldn't keep her emotions locked in anymore, after fighting to hide them for too long. One moment she was trying to reassure her son, and the next she was practically collapsing on the table, struggling to contain her sobs.</p><p class="western">"Mom," Blaine muttered, frightened by her breakdown. He scooted around his chair until he was close enough to pull her into his arms. "Mom, hey, come on. Talk to me…"</p><p class="western">But talking seemed to be something she couldn't do yet, so she simply allowed her son to hold her, as her body shook with the force of her anguish. Blaine rubbed her back, soothingly, but he was at a loss for words, just as she seemed to be.</p><p class="western">It took a few minutes for Heather to calm down, but luckily the waitress noticed they needed some time to pull themselves back together, and left them in relative privacy. Finally, Heather lifted her head from her son's shoulder, wiping her tears carefully, though too late to salvage her make-up.</p><p class="western">"I'm so sorry, Blaine," she whispered, voice weak. "I didn't mean to cause a scene…"</p><p class="western">"You didn't, Mom. It's okay," Blaine's smile wasn't exactly genuine, but he did his best. "Are you ready to tell me what's going on? I'm seriously getting a little bit worried here…"</p><p class="western">"Oh, honey," Heather closed her eyes, shaking her head. "It's nothing for you to be worried about…"</p><p class="western">"But you were crying," Blaine reached to wipe a lonely tear still making its way down his mother's cheek. "You still <em>are</em>."</p><p class="western">She accepted his glass of water when he offered it silently and took a long sip. "Some days are still really hard. Some days I walk around the house finding myself talking to your father, asking him if he's seen my shoes, or my keys, or if he knows what he wants to have for dinner, and then I suddenly remember that there's no one there anymore to answer my questions." She fished in her purse for a tissue, dabbing at her nose. "I knew it would be hard to get used to him not being around, but it's much lonlier than I thought…"</p><p class="western">A few fresh tears started running down her cheeks and Blaine scooted even closer to wipe them. "Mom… it's okay to miss him. I do, too. We'll always miss him, and it'll take a long time to really get used to the idea of not having him with us anymore, but you have to know that I'm here for you…"</p><p class="western">"I know you are, dear," Heather cupped his cheek, giving him a sad smile. "But he was the love of my life, the only man I've ever loved… I feel so lost without him…"</p><p class="western">Blaine took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm so sorry you had to lose him like this. It isn't fair…"</p><p class="western">Heather sighed. "Life sometimes isn't very fair, Blaine."</p><p class="western">When she seemed controlled enough, Blaine moved back to his original spot on the far side of the table and the waitress approached them. Blaine gave her a grateful smile before she took their orders.</p><p class="western">Blaine put his hands on the table, fingers laced, wondering how he could help her. "Have you thought about doing something to keep yourself distracted? Have you seen any of your friends since the funeral?"</p><p class="western">"Oh, they've called me and asked me to join them at the country club so many times," Heather answered. "I just haven't been in the mood to have them remind me how sad I am."</p><p class="western">"Maybe you should go," Blaine said, giving her hand a little squeeze. "It could be good for you to see them. You could go back to working on those events they always organize to raise funds for charity. Organizing things always made you happy…"</p><p class="western">Heather didn't seem convinced yet, so Blaine leaned over the table to look into her eyes.</p><p class="western">"Just try, Mom. It couldn't hurt to get out now and again. Just a few afternoons with your friends, to help you keep your mind off the sad stuff. It's not like I'm telling you to go out on a date or anything…"</p><p class="western">"Date! Oh, Blaine, you have to tell me about your date!" She exclaimed suddenly, perking up visibly when she remembered what the initial reason for their lunch was.</p><p class="western">Blaine shifted awkwardly on his seat, hoping he could evade the subject. "We don't have to talk about that now, Mom."</p><p class="western">"Yes, we do," she finally managed to smile sincerely for the first time that day. "Listening to my son talking about something happy will make me feel a lot better. So come on, tell me all about it. His name was Josh, wasn't it?"</p><p class="western">Blaine felt his face falling, unable to pretend. The humiliation and the hurt were still very much present. "I'm sorry but I don't have anything particularly happy to say about it, Mom."</p><p class="western">Her smile disappeared, replaced by sympathy filling her eyes, and that only made Blaine feel worse. "Blaine…"</p><p class="western">"It's okay," he tried to sound nonchalant, but he was sure he failed dismally. "He wasn't the right one. That's it. One date didn't mean I was going to marry the guy…"</p><p class="western">"But you seemed so excited…" It was her turn to grab his hand and squeeze it now. "What happened?"</p><p class="western">He couldn't tell her that Josh had pretty much slept with him and then dumped him, so he tried to think of something less demeaning to say. "We wanted different things, and we didn't have anything in common. He definitely wasn't looking for a serious relationship."</p><p class="western">"Do you think <em>you </em>are ready to jump into a serious relationship?" She asked softly, her attention fully on him. "You've been alone for so long, maybe what you need is to have some fun and see where that takes you…"</p><p class="western">Blaine shook his head, horrified at the echo of Josh's sentiments. "I'm not made for casual. I'm not made for dating guys just for laughs." He looked at her sadly. "I want to fall in love, Mom, and I want to be loved back. I want someone to go home to, someone who won't be afraid of planning a future with me…"</p><p class="western">"Oh, darling," she reached across the table and brushed back some of the curls falling on his forehead. He hadn't even bothered gelling down his hair that day. "You will find him. Right now, the man who's going to love you more than anything else in this world, is waiting for you. You just have to find each other."</p><p class="western">Blaine pushed his glasses up his nose. His voice was low and miserable when he spoke again. "Who can possibly love <em>me</em>, Mom? I'm a joke."</p><p class="western">"No, you're not," she said vehemently. "You're an attractive, intelligent, sweet man. Any guy would be lucky to have you."</p><p class="western">Blaine blushed. "You say that because you're my mom. You love me no matter what."</p><p class="western">"I say that because it's true," she cupped his cheek again and smiled sweetly. "Keep your heart and your eyes wide open, Blaine, and he's going to come into your life when you least expect him. You'll see."</p><p class="western">Blaine wasn't sure he believed that, but he nodded anyway.</p><hr/><p class="western">By the time Blaine arrived at the bookshop, his mood was dark and unstable, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. He felt as if he had been walking around with his own personal rain cloud hanging over his head since the previous night, now a million times gloomier after seeing how affected his mother still was about his father's death.</p><p class="western">Kurt was already there, working with some really loud annoying power tool that Blaine had no idea what its purpose was. Blaine waited until he paused for a moment to make his presence known.</p><p class="western">"Hey," he said simply, his usual smile completely absent from his lips.</p><p class="western">"Hello," Kurt replied distractedly, not really paying any attention to him as he grabbed a pencil that he had tucked behind his ear to mark something in the wall. His white t-shirt was clinging to his back with a bit of sweat and his hair was starting to fall onto his forehead. "I was waiting for you to get here because I need to go to the hardware store. I ran out of a couple of things and I need them before I can finish this."</p><p class="western">"Sure, whatever," Blaine dropped his satchel on the table next to the armchair.</p><p class="western">Kurt arched an eyebrow, probably surprised that Blaine wasn't asking for further information. He usually wanted to know what Kurt was doing, why he was doing, if he could help… it was incredibly irritating. But he made no comments about his boss' lack of interest. He just put the tools down and wiped his sweaty hands on the seat of his old jeans.</p><p class="western">Blaine didn't even watch him leave. He heard the door closing behind Kurt and sighed. For once, he didn't feel like being there at the bookshop, even if he knew that reminding himself that he was working towards fulfilling his dream, was his best option for cheering up. But he wanted to be alone (<em>you're already always alone</em>, a voice in his head said, and Blaine shushed it, frustrated), change into a pair of sweats, have some good wine and catch up on his sleep. He wanted this horrible day to end.</p><p class="western">There was only one other thing that always managed to make him feel better no matter what. With another sigh, Blaine sat on the armchair, trying to make himself comfortable, and then rummaged through his satchel. He always carried two or three books around, so he grabbed them, eyeing them critically and trying to decide which one would be more helpful.</p><p class="western">He ended up choosing his worn old copy of Oscar Wilde's <em>The Importance of Being Earnest</em>, curling on his side with the book, already feeling warmth spreading through him as he opened it, starting to read it from the very beginning.</p><p class="western">It was almost immediate, the way Blaine relaxed when he lost himself in the book. Books were his happy places. They were shelters from the real world, where he could experience the deepest of sadness and the greatest of pleasures without taking any of the risks in his own life. He could love the characters without caring that they didn't love him back, he could see them fight, then grow and die knowing that if anything went wrong, he could just flip ahead a few pages to a happy ending. If something hurt, he could skip it, or he could skim over it, as fast as he could, until things were okay again. He didn't have to wait to see how his life would unfold. He just had to read some more, and all the answers would be right there, in front of his eyes.</p><p class="western">He had just reached one of his favorite quotes in the book (<em>"The very essence of romance is uncertainty"</em>), that had made his stomach twist uncomfortably, when Kurt returned. Blaine didn't say anything to him, he simply kept reading, trying his hardest to stay immersed deep within his fictional world, where he needed to be right now.</p><p class="western">Kurt didn't say anything, either, before going back to work, though he glanced at Blaine every now and then. Something about the atmosphere seemed disturbing. Blaine wasn't his usual self, annoying Kurt out of his mind. He was so quiet, so curled in on himself, as if he was hoping that stupid armchair would swallow him.</p><p class="western">Blaine brushed his fingertips over the old, time-stained pages lovingly. His eyes were glued to the words in front of him. He didn't stop reading for hours. The constant noises of Kurt working in the room barely reached his ears, and he only put the book down when he realized he needed a cup of coffee or he would soon fall asleep. His agitated night had left him exhausted.</p><p class="western">He got up and stretched, his muscles stiff after being in the same position for so long, and then bent to look for his wallet in his satchel.</p><p class="western">"Oh, <em>well</em>. Someone'd better be fucking that ass open every night, because it would be such a waste if it wasn't…"</p><p class="western">Blaine spun around and straightened up to look at Kurt with wide shocked eyes, unable to believe the lewd comment had come from him. But Kurt was the only other person there, and judging from his smug smile and the way his blue eyes were appraising Blaine's body, it had, indeed, originated from him.</p><p class="western">"Excuse me?" Blaine asked, incredulously.</p><p class="western">"Hey, I'm just saying. You shouldn't be wasting an ass like that by just sitting on it and <em>reading</em>," Kurt shrugged, as if he was talking about something as trivial as the weather and not Blaine's ass. "I can think of plenty of better ways you can put it to good use…"</p><p class="western">Something snapped inside of Blaine. His restraint broke into a million jagged shards. It had been such a long, terrible day, and it wasn't even close to over yet. He couldn't take one more second of this anymore.</p><p class="western">Blaine could feel his nostrils flaring, his anger making him pant as if he had just run a marathon. His fists clenched where they were hanging at his sides, book, coffee, everything absolutely forgotten as he looked at the stupid smirk in Kurt's lips.</p><p class="western">"That is extremely inappropriate," Blaine said coldly. "Go back to work right <em>now</em>."</p><p class="western">Kurt's eyes seemed to widen for a moment, but Blaine couldn't really be anywhere near him anymore, so he just grabbed his book, shoved it back into his satchel, and stormed out of the bookshop without looking back.</p><p class="western">He had been right, earlier that day, when he was talking to his mother. Everyone thought he was just a big joke.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">That night, Blaine tossed and turned endlessly trying to settle down enough to sleep. Even though he was worn out from barely sleeping at all the previous night, he lay awake for hours, staring up at the ceiling. His thoughts had started speaking to him in a low, annoying whisper, but they had now become howling screams that brought on a splitting headache.</p><p class="western">What had happened over the past two days… those things didn't happen to Blaine. Sue, he had gone on dates, mostly in college. Only two had resulted in mildly serious relationships, and neither had lasted very long.</p><p class="western">He met the first guy when he was still a freshman in college. Blaine had spent most of his teenage life fairly isolated, without friends, depending on his books for companionship, and he was a million times shyer then than he was now. Harry had been the first boy to ever seriously look at him, to tell him he was cute. The problem was, after a few dates, they realized they had absolutely nothing in common. Their conversations were stilted, but since they were both lonely, they ignored that for a while, and filled the uncomfortable silences with make-out sessions that eventually ended up in bed.</p><p class="western">Blaine remembered the breaking point, when they had been walking out of class on their way to the cafeteria, their hands clasped between them, enjoying the first warm days of spring after all those months of snow and cold that made the walk between one building and the other so dreadful.</p><p class="western">Harry squeezed his hand. "So, what do you want to do tonight?"</p><p class="western">"I don't know," Blaine shrugged. "We could go out to eat? I've always wanted to try the Mediterranean restaurant in Main Street."</p><p class="western">"Ugh," Harry made a disgusted face. "I hate Mediterranean food. Oh! The new Grand Theft Auto comes out today! We could go pick it up and then go back to my dorm and play."</p><p class="western">Blaine scrunched his nose. "You know I don't like playing video games." "Oh, right," Harry deflated, visibly disappointed.</p><p class="western">"There's an independent film festival downtown," Blaine proposed, grasping at straws, desperate to find something they might both like. "We could go to a double feature…"</p><p class="western">"I hate independent films. They never have enough explosions and they're always going on and on about their <em>feelings</em>."</p><p class="western">Silence settled between them, more than a bit awkward. They entered the cafeteria, got their food and found a vacant table before they spoke again.</p><p class="western">Blaine bit his lip as he pushed his mac and cheese around. "Uhm. One of my favorite authors is having a signing today and I really wanted to go…"</p><p class="western">Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wasn't a book person like Blaine, at all. The more distance between him and a book, the better. "Well, you should probably go to that. I have homework to do anyway."</p><p class="western">Blaine looked at him without saying anything for a moment, and finally nodded, a little sadly. "Right."</p><p class="western">They broke up amicably soon after that, when Blaine realized that, besides not having anything in common, he didn't really have any feelings for Harry beyond a weird camaraderie simply because of them both being gay. Their friendship didn't really last long either, once they stopped sleeping together. They barely exchanged emails twice a year, and Christmas cards when they remembered. Blaine hadn't heard from him in a while, but he didn't care enough to bother staying in touch, either. There just wasn't anything worthwhile there.</p><p class="western">His second relationship was while he was a junior. Blaine was immediately charmed by Nicholas, who happened to be in one of his classes. He and Blaine both had the highest marks in the class, and they never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Nicholas had a wonderful vocabulary, and everytime Blaine listened to him, he felt ecstatic, moved, exhilarated. It was one of the strangest things that had ever happened to him, and it was the first time he felt this connected to another guy. Unfortunately, just when Blaine was sure he was falling in love, he discovered something that put an abrupt end to their relationship.</p><p class="western">It was a Sunday afternoon, and he and Nicholas were hanging out in Nicholas' apartment, watching movies on his laptop while they cuddled on the bed. It was one of Blaine's absolute favorite things to do and he smiled contentedly as he nuzzled against his boyfriend's chest, which was covered in a soft, worn hoodie.</p><p class="western">The movie had been interrupted when Nicholas' cellphone had gone off. Blaine quickly pressed pause and handed it to him, since he was closer to the bedside table where the phone was. Blaine stayed snuggled comfortably against him, as Nicholas talked to his mother. He listened to him asking about his siblings (he was the middle child, and had two brothers and two sisters) and his father.</p><p class="western">"Oh! You're coming to visit me?" Nicholas said, surprised. His voice sounded a bit shaky, as if he was nervous. "S-sure, sure. It'll be great to see you guys."</p><p class="western">Blaine peered quizzically at his boyfriend wondering why he would be worried about that, but Nicholas avoided meeting his eyes.</p><p class="western">"Y-you want to meet her?" Now he sounded completely petrified and Blaine was becoming really worried. "I guess I'll have to check with her to see if she's available. She's, uhm, busy… a lot, with homework, and projects and extra-curriculars. H-her name? I thought I'd mentioned it? No?" Nicholas glanced at Blaine, anxiously, before turning his head away to face the wall, and lowering his voice. "It's… B-Brenda. Her name is Brenda."</p><p class="western">Blaine was sure Nick had never mentioned any Brendas so now his curiosity piqued. He watched as Nicholas wound up his conversation before hanging up. As soon as he put the cellphone down, Blaine casually asked, "so, who's Brenda?"</p><p class="western">Nicholas blushed furiously and he made a point in not looking directly at Blaine. "No one."</p><p class="western">"She has to be <em>someone </em>if your parents want to meet her," Blaine replied reasonably, frowning. "Is everything okay?"</p><p class="western">"I… Blaine…" Nicholas ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. "<em>You </em>are Brenda." That definitely wasn't what Blaine had been expecting. "<em>What?</em>"</p><p class="western">"They don't know I'm gay," Nicholas said, embarrassed. They both sat up on the bed, the movie completely forgotten. "They asked if I was seeing someone and I couldn't tell them it was a boy…"</p><p class="western">Blaine was having trouble breathing. "So… I'm your dirty little secret?" Nicholas' face fell. "Blaine, don't…"</p><p class="western">"Are you planning to come out to them any time soon?" Blaine interrupted, already feeling his heart breaking into pieces.</p><p class="western">It took an eternity for Nicholas to sigh in defeat and finally answer him. "No, Blaine. I'm <em>never </em>coming out to my parents. I can't do it."</p><p class="western">"What do you mean, never?" Hurt tore through his chest, and Blaine tried to not break down. Everything had been fine between them not even fifteen minutes ago, and now… and now his life seemed to be falling apart.</p><p class="western">"They would never understand," Nicholas said hopelessly. "And this can't be my life, Blaine. I can't be gay forever. People are expecting better things from me…"</p><p class="western">Blaine had stared at him, mouth hanging open, incredulous. "You can't be <em>gay forever</em>? What are you going to do? Switch it off?"</p><p class="western">"I'll do what I have to do, Blaine!" Nicholas exclaimed, exasperated. "You just don't understand!" "I'm trying to! But you're not giving me a lot of options here!"</p><p class="western">A long stressful afternoon of arguing followed after that. They yelled, Blaine cried and Nicholas apologized, but there was no way to resolve it now. Not when Blaine knew for sure Nicholas couldn't see that he was making a terrible mistake. He wasn't going to waste time being his guilty pleasure, someone his boyfriend was ashamed of his family finding about. He knew coming out was hard, that it took a lot of courage, that sometimes it meant people might react with bigotry … but he was proud of who he was, and he didn't want to hide from anyone. He hadn't hidden since he was just a kid, and he wasn't going to start now. Blaine tried to be understanding, but this wasn't negotiable. And as heartbroken as he had been, Blaine had ended it.</p><p class="western">After that, there had been a few random dates. Not countless numbers of them, but enough. To this point, Blaine hadn't managed to find that special man, someone who would truly care for him and who he could care for. Weary of seeing his hopes shot down, Blaine had pretty much given up, until they were resurrected and shot down again when he met Josh. Maybe he just wasn't the kind of guy who attracted intelligent, out and proud guys. Maybe he only attracted the dim-witted, one-night stands and closet cases.</p><p class="western">His sex life had definitely suffered from deprivation for the last few years. It hadn't been bad at all until after Nicholas, but then everything went downhill. Blaine probably shouldn't have been shocked by having fallen right into Josh's arms. His body had needs that he was constantly stifling and ignoring. It was frustrating. It was embarrassing.</p><p class="western">But even though he had never had a long-lasting, meaningful relationship, Blaine had never felt like he had for these past two days. He wasn't the kind of guy who got ogled. No one ever really looked past his big, nerdy glasses and his silly bowties to see the man underneath. No one had ever treated him like he was nothing but a piece of meat, like a commodity. And that was exactly how he felt after his night with Josh, and after Kurt's completely inappropriate comment.</p><p class="western">Kurt had been such a shock, though, blindsiding him. From the moment he had stepped into Blaine's life, Blaine had assumed immediately that the man was straight. Sure, for the first few seconds, before Kurt opened his cynical mouth to disparage everything around him, Blaine had found him so gloriously attractive that it almost hurt to look at him. But perhaps it had been easier to focus on the less attractive of Kurt, because a crush on someone who was working for him was a terrible, terrible idea. So Blaine had convinced himself that the pale-skinned man with the vibrant blue eyes was straight, because it was easier to see him as straight and therefore unavailable. If Kurt was gay, it just meant that there was yet another man crossing paths with Blaine repelled by what he saw.</p><p class="western">Everything was so complicated. Sometimes Blaine wished he could turn his brain off.</p><p class="western">It would've certainly made everything so much easier, if he could only turn off the mocking voices in his head.</p><hr/><p class="western">Blaine's weekend sucked.</p><p class="western">He had talked himself into believing that there was something so completely loathsome about him, and that his unappealing, shy personality made people think it was just fine to step all over him.</p><p class="western">He called his mother to check on her and at least she seemed to be doing better. She had called one of her old friends, who had convinced her to go with her to a spa for the weekend. Blaine knew that was going to help her a lot, relaxing and talking to someone she had been close to for almost her whole life.</p><p class="western">He wondered if he would ever have a friend he could count on like that or if he would ever find someone to be close to in any way.</p><p class="western">Probably not.</p><p class="western">He opened another bottle of beer and watched a rom-com, instead.</p><hr/><p class="western">Another reason why Blaine's weekend sucked, was that when he decided to stop whining and go out for a walk to clear his head, he just discovered that the universe was, evidently, against him.</p><p class="western">There was a park near his apartment that Blaine really liked. He imagined that if he ever got a dog, he would really enjoy walking him when the sun was going down, between the calm at the end of the day, and the rush of people going back home after a long day at work. But Blaine didn't have a dog, he probably wouldn't get one either, since he didn't have enough time to care for it. A cat seemed to make more sense, anyway…</p><p class="western">It had been a hot day, but now, under the trees, Blaine could barely feel the remaining sunshine on his skin. The park was glorious in the summer: the flowerbeds looked vibrant and colorful, mothers took their kids to the playground, couples walked around holding hands and talking quietly.</p><p class="western">Life might be ugly sometimes, but in spite of all the things he wished he had, Blaine still saw a beautiful world.</p><p class="western">He smiled a little, the first smile gracing his lips in a few days. And then it fell when he saw him.</p><p class="western">The park was also a great place to go for some exercise, especially a good run. And coming straight towards Blaine at a fast pace, wearing blue shorts that revealed his muscled, stupidly attractive thighs, and a wife-beater stuck to his chest with his sweat, was Josh.</p><p class="western">Blaine glanced around quickly, breath catching in his throat, trying to find a way to avoid talking to him… "Blaine?"</p><p class="western"><em>Shit</em>.</p><p class="western">Blaine took a deep breath before facing Josh, who had stopped and was now leaning, with his hands on his knees, panting. Blaine hated himself for still finding him attractive. How could he avoid it when the sweaty panting man in front of him revived heated memories from their passionate night together?</p><p class="western">"Hi," he said dryly.</p><p class="western">"Hey," Josh smiled. "What are you doing here?"</p><p class="western">"Just taking a walk," Blaine answered lightly, gesturing around them, as if he didn't have a care in the world.</p><p class="western">Josh straightened up and tilted his head to the side, looking slightly amused. "So, are you still pissed about the other night?"</p><p class="western">Blaine clenched his teeth for a moment. "No."</p><p class="western">"Yes, you are," Josh chuckled and then also had the audacity to pat Blaine's shoulder. "Come on, man. Don't be like that…"</p><p class="western">Blaine rolled his shoulder until Josh's hand fell off it. "Don't be like <em>that</em>?"</p><p class="western">"Why can't you appreciate things for what they are? A good fuck is a good fuck, you don't have to make such a big deal out of it not being anything more," Josh shrugged and Blaine felt himself growing angrier.</p><p class="western">"We're never going to agree about that, Josh," Blaine said in a cold voice that didn't sound like his. "You know how I feel about it."</p><p class="western">"Yeah, I do, but I still think you're overreacting," Josh smiled in what seemed to be a sympathetic way. "Loosen up a little, man. Lose the bowties and the hairgel, stop being so uptight. Live your life, and just… enjoy, like you did the other night. You had a good time, didn't you?"</p><p class="western">Blaine looked away and forced himself to breathe deeply to calm himself, before he punched Josh in the face.</p><p class="western">"You're a cool guy, Blaine, and you're really hot," Josh said, once again putting his hand on his shoulder. "You'd be even sexier if you relaxed."</p><p class="western">"I don't <em>need </em>to relax," Blaine replied, shoving Josh's hand off him a little more abruptly than he originally intended.</p><p class="western">Josh sighed and rolled his eyes mockingly."Fine. But if you change your mind, call me. We can go out for a drink and then have a repeat of the other night." He jogged a few steps, before turning, running backwards so he could still talk to Blaine. "You live in Ohio, Blaine! You don't have a lot of options, so if you don't want to end up old and alone, you'd better change your attitude!"</p><p class="western">Blaine watched him go, feeling as if he had just had all the air sucked out of him, before heading back home, with Josh's voice echoing his biggest fear in his head.</p><hr/><p class="western">Monday arrived, and if not being excited about going back to the bookshop wasn't a sign of how dejected Blaine was still feeling, then he didn't know what was.</p><p class="western">While he was driving, Blaine tried to think of what could keep him busy enough to avoid being anywhere near Kurt, as much as possible. He reminded himself to stop feeling ashamed, when Kurt was the one at fault and resolved to look more serious and intimidating. He had done nothing wrong. He also convinced himself that if Kurt made any more comments like the last one, he would fire him. He couldn't tolerate disrespect, even if he would have a hard time finding someone to replace Kurt.</p><p class="western">There was no sign of Kurt or his truck when he arrived, and for a moment, Blaine wondered if maybe Kurt had quit. But considering what he knew about the man, Blaine suspected that Kurt wasn't embarrassed or regretted what he had said. He was simply late for work.</p><p class="western">With a sigh, Blaine settled on the armchair and pulled his laptop out of his satchel to reply to a few emails from some publishing houses regarding books for the shop. Then maybe he could spend the rest of the day taking the stuff from the backroom that he had decided to donate to start making room for the boxes of books that he would soon start to receive.</p><p class="western">And then he would have to find further tasks to take him out of the way for the rest of the time Kurt worked for him.</p><p class="western">When the door opened, and he heard steps advancing into the shop, (he was twenty minutes late), Blaine didn't look up from his screen, nor did he say anything to acknowledge him. He kept his eyes glued to the email he had been reading, now without really seeing the words, and his jaw tense, reminding himself to not let Kurt be yet another guy who would walk all over him.</p><p class="western">But when a Lima Bean cup was placed on the table next to his computer, Blaine's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He couldn't help but glance up, perplexed. Kurt was standing in front of him sheepishly, and biting his lip.</p><p class="western">For the first time since he had met the man, Kurt looked anxious. All trace of his arrogance was gone.</p><p class="western">"It's a Medium Drip," Kurt said quietly, guessing what that questioning look on Blaine's face meant. "I remembered your order, because you got me one on my first day…"</p><p class="western">Blaine still didn't say anything and didn't reach for the coffee. He just looked at Kurt. Something seemed different about him. All his confidence had vanished, and Blaine wasn't sure how to deal with this tentative new Kurt.</p><p class="western">Kurt took a deep, steadying breath and kept his eyes on a spot on the wall behind Blaine, as if he couldn't look at him and say what he wanted at the same time. "Look, I'm really sorry. I'm terribly sorry for saying what I said the other day. It was completely out of line and it will never happen again."</p><p class="western">It was like seeing a building fall in front of his own eyes. It was fascinating and sort of sad, at the same time. It seemed to be taking all of Kurt's strength to talk to him right now.</p><p class="western">"I have no idea why I even said it," Kurt continued, his voice a lot softer than it normally was. "I don't usually... I just want to get my job done, without any hassles. I promise I won't make another comment like that one. I'm sorry if my sexuality makes you uncomfortable and I hope you give me another chance. I know I'm good at what I do, even if I can't seem to keep my big mouth shut half the time, but..." He stopped, swallowed. It looked like it was hard for him to keep talking. "I'll completely understand if you don't want me here anymore."</p><p class="western">Blaine blinked in astonishment as he watched him. Kurt seemed almost… scared? Was it possible for someone as confident as Kurt to be scared? And he <em>was </em>gay, after all. Blaine didn't know how to process that information.</p><p class="western">"I appreciate your apology," Blaine muttered calmly. "And I would very much appreciate it if you kept comments like that to yourself from now on…"</p><p class="western">"Wait," Kurt's eyes went a little wide. "So… you're <em>not </em>going to fire me?"</p><p class="western">Blaine shrugged. "You said it wouldn't happen again, so why would I fire you?"</p><p class="western">Kurt seemed extremely shocked. "B-because I'm gay," he answered, as if that was an acceptable excuse.</p><p class="western">Blaine frowned. "I can't fire you just because you're gay."</p><p class="western">Kurt let out a dismissive snort. "Right. You'd be surprised of how often that happens…" Blaine tilted his head to the side curiously, maybe even concerned. "I mean…"</p><p class="western">"It would be hypocritical of me to fire you for your sexuality," Blaine said. When Kurt simply stared at him in confusion, Blaine added: "I'm gay, too."</p><p class="western">Kurt's mouth opened in a silent O, clearly not expecting that.</p><p class="western">"Just…" Blaine leaned forward on his seat, looking right into Kurt's blue (very, oh so very blue) eyes. "Let's keep this relationship professional, okay? You can be whoever you want to be here, as long as you're respectful."</p><p class="western">Kurt nodded slowly. "Thank you."</p><p class="western">"It's fine." Blaine's attention went back to his computer.</p><p class="western">Kurt pushed the coffee towards him. "Drink it before it goes cold." He cleared his throat, looking around as if he needed to remember what he was supposed to do. "I'll… get started then."</p><p class="western">He turned around and walked out to his truck to grab his tools. Blaine reached for the coffee and took a sip.</p><p class="western">This really wasn't the way he had expected his Monday morning to go.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Things felt a little easier between them now. They didn't really jump into a friendship, but at least the snarky, rude comments from Kurt stopped altogether, and Blaine didn't feel so uncomfortable as they worked around each other, expecting Kurt to strike back if he made the slightest wrong move.</p><p class="western">Still, that first day, it was a little awkward. They were feeling out how their new truce would work. Kurt had for once acted like a human being and now that Blaine had given him the space to be himself, instead of kicking him out the way Kurt had expected, everything still felt too fragile. Kurt was clearly on edge, thinking carefully before he opened his mouth to talk, and sometimes he wouldn't even look at Blaine when he spoke.</p><p class="western">His behavior was such a change from the man Blaine was used to seeing. He was used to Kurt being carelessly cruel with his words, to that smirk that he was convinced had taken up permanent residence on the man's lips, to the glares, and the snorts of contempt. This felt so different, and he wasn't sure how to handle him just yet.</p><p class="western">He certainly wasn't expecting to lighten their initial awkwardness with laughter.</p><p class="western">The morning was long gone, and they both had kept busy all day, involved in their own projects. Blaine was back on his computer, searching for the phone number of one of the organizations to donate the stuff in the backroom, when Kurt approached him warily.</p><p class="western">"Uhm," Kurt said, and it was obvious he was still nervous from what had happened earlier. "I'm gonna go take my lunch break now, if that's okay with you, Mr. Anderson…"</p><p class="western">Blaine's head swiveled up to look at him, and his eyes widened a little. He tried. He really, really tried, but when he just couldn't hold it anymore, he barked out a laugh.</p><p class="western">Kurt tried to act nonchalant about his reaction. He crossed his arms over his chest and quirked an eyebrow. "What?"</p><p class="western">Blaine covered his mouth with his hand and forced himself to calm down. Finally, he looked back at Kurt, biting his lip. "Kurt… I said we should keep things professional, but let's not be ridiculous, okay?"</p><p class="western">"I… what do you mean?" Kurt shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "Calling me Mr. Anderson? Isn't that just a little too much?" Blaine asked, smiling.</p><p class="western">"Well…" Kurt shrugged. He still seemed to be trying to figure out what Blaine wanted from him.</p><p class="western">"We are probably the same age. It's just weird to be so formal," Blaine scrunched his nose. "You can call me Blaine. That'll be enough."</p><p class="western">"Fine," Kurt sighed. "Can I go take my lunch break now, Blaine?"</p><p class="western">Blaine smiled at him once again, and nodded. "Yes, Kurt. Go ahead."</p><p class="western">Kurt turned around and walked out of the bookshop. His shoulders were hunched, as if he was carrying the weight of the world on them. Blaine frowned as he watched him go, and a million questions buzzed in his head.</p><hr/><p class="western">"Have you always lived in Ohio?"</p><p class="western">Kurt looked up at him in surprise from where he was kneeling next to his toolbox.</p><p class="western">It was the first time either of them tried to start a conversation. A real conversation. For the past few days they had stuck to trivial topics (<em>"Looks like it's going to rain soon, isn't it?" "The Lima Bean is great, but there's a coffee shop in Westerville that has better cinnamon rolls"</em>). They were safe topics to navigate while they were still very much unsure around each other.</p><p class="western">But, Blaine had to admit, he was curious. He wanted to know more about Kurt. He'd had a lot of time to think since Monday (since no one was waiting at home for him, or anyone but his mother ever called him to chat) and he had reached a conclusion: Kurt's previous rude attitude (he was almost waiting for it to make a comeback, wondering if at some point Kurt would explode and all traces of kindness would disappear) probably had a lot to do with the fact that Kurt was a very bitter man. Blaine didn't mean it as an insult, but simply as an observation, a fact. There was something bitterly resentful about Kurt, about the way he got through a day, about the way his smiles weren't even real smiles at all. There was something bitter in the way he seemed uncomfortable every time Blaine showed him any kindness. It was almost as if he expected to be yelled at, insulted, and treated like crap all the time.</p><p class="western">So Blaine thought he would start there, to find out what he wanted to know, a simple enough question to begin with.</p><p class="western">Apparently not, judging by the way Kurt frowned, with his blue eyes shifting to stare out of the window pensively.</p><p class="western">"Yes. Well, I did live in New York for a few months, but…" He answered softly, almost lost in thought. Then he shook his head. "But yeah. I was born and raised here. Probably gonna die here in this hellhole, too."</p><p class="western">It was Blaine's turn to frown. If everything Kurt had said and done until now had seemed bitter to him, that last sentence had to be the most bitter of them all. But before he had time to address that, Kurt sighed.</p><p class="western">"What about you?"</p><p class="western">It was obvious he only asked the question to divert attention from him, and that merely piqued Blaine's curiosity even more. Still, he didn't want to make Kurt uncomfortable, so he decided to let it go.</p><p class="western">"Me, too," Blaine replied. "I've actually never spent much time in Lima before. I've mostly lived around Westerville."</p><p class="western">"I've only been to Westerville once," Kurt said, as he grabbed the measuring tape, and used it to measure a piece of trim he was going to cut. "I considered transferring to Dalton Academy, the…"</p><p class="western">"Really?" Blaine interrupted, as his eyebrows rose in surprise. "That's where I went to school! And I work there now!"</p><p class="western">"You do?" Kurt seemed surprised to learn they had a common link. "Are you a teacher?"</p><p class="western">"No, I'm the librarian there," Blaine answered diffidently.</p><p class="western">Kurt snorted softly. "Of course you are."</p><p class="western">There was nothing insulting in Kurt's voice. It actually sounded more like friendly teasing, and Blaine liked the way it felt. He smiled and rolled his eyes. "It's a good job and Dalton is a great place to work." He watched Kurt as rechecked the measurement he'd made. "Did you ever end up doing it?"</p><p class="western">"Did I… what?" Kurt asked, distracted, as he reached for the pencil he kept behind his ear and made a little mark on the wall.</p><p class="western">"Transfer," Blaine reminded him. "To Dalton."</p><p class="western">"Oh," Kurt frowned, his eyes still glued to the wall. Blaine studied him carefully, waiting for a reaction. "No. My family couldn't afford the tuition."</p><p class="western">"Why did you want to leave your school?"</p><p class="western">"It was populated entirely with idiots," Kurt answered simply.</p><p class="western">"Oh right," Blaine muttered, a little wide-eyed that Kurt had been so bluntly honest. "Well, it's a pity, really. I'm sure we would have become friends if we had met in high school…"</p><p class="western">Kurt turned to glance at him, confused. "What makes you say that?"</p><p class="western">Blaine wasn't sure why he had said that, actually. Why would he and Kurt ever have become friends? Blaine hadn't had any real friends, so what would have made Kurt the exception? It was just a stupid assumption…</p><p class="western">"I don't know," he said honestly. "I just have the feeling it would've happened."</p><p class="western">Kurt hummed in acknowledgment but said nothing more about it. After a few moments of silence, both having come back to their respective activities, Kurt spoke up again. "Why did you stay in Ohio instead of going somewhere else?"</p><p class="western">It was a little weird that it was Kurt trying to keep the conversation alive, but it sent a thrill down Blaine's spine for some reason. "I'm not really sure. I guess I didn't have anywhere else I wanted to go."</p><p class="western">"There's always somewhere else to go," Kurt murmured, quietly.</p><p class="western">Blaine tilted his head to the side. "Then why did you come back here?"</p><p class="western">He knew it was the wrong question to ask when the muscles in Kurt's back, covered in a tight white shirt, tensed visibly. Blaine held his breath, completely convinced that this would be the moment where everything would go to hell, where Kurt would snap at him, and go back to being the guy he'd been since that first day.</p><p class="western">Instead, silence spread between them, suffocating. It felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room, but Blaine didn't dare try to breathe normally, scared he would waste the last bit of oxygen left.</p><p class="western">When a few minutes passed without Kurt saying anything at all, Blaine thought he was just going to ignore him. Blaine bit his lip, wishing he had kept his mouth shut. Everything had been going so well…</p><p class="western">"Because I had to," Kurt finally answered, in barely a whisper.</p><p class="western">Blaine didn't know why, but the way Kurt said those words made his heart ache.</p><hr/><p class="western">After that, their conversations stayed on trivial topics for a few days. Blaine was afraid of asking the wrong question again, and Kurt clearly had no interest in telling him more, or in knowing more about Blaine. So they simply stayed on safe ground, commenting on something they had seen on the news the previous night, or going over details for the plans Blaine had for the bookshop.</p><p class="western">It was a Wednesday, and Blaine was showing Kurt some samples of paint he had gotten, asking his opinion of the colors. Kurt studied them carefully.</p><p class="western">"I like this one," he said, pointing to a deep red paint. "It's a really good brand of paint and the color will look good with the wooden floors once we take the carpet off."</p><p class="western">"I would really like to paint the kids section in a different color, though," Blaine muttered thoughtfully. "Maybe a dark blue with stars? So it would look like a night sky?"</p><p class="western">Kurt nodded. "That's a good idea. Kids like that crap. You can hang some planet models from the ceiling, too…"</p><p class="western">"Oh, that would look amazing!" Blaine almost clapped his hands in his enthusiasm.</p><p class="western">Kurt rolled his eyes with a chuckle, and monumentally failed to look annoyed. "Calm down, Blaine. It's for the kids, not for you…"</p><p class="western">Blaine immediately reached for his computer to log onto eBay to see if he could find some models of planets there, as Kurt walked away to return to his own work. But, within a few steps, he stopped and turned to look at him again, curiosity clear in his eyes – eyes that today looked green instead of blue, but just as stunning as when Blaine had seen him for the first time.</p><p class="western">"Why a bookshop?"</p><p class="western">Blaine glanced up from the screen, where he was waiting for the computer to start. His confusion must have shown in his face. "What do you mean?"</p><p class="western">Kurt shrugged, as if he didn't really care. "You know, you said you really liked your job at Dalton. You're already a librarian, you already spend every day surrounded by books. Why not something else? Why a bookshop?"</p><p class="western">Blaine realized this was the first real inquisitive question Kurt had ever asked, the first time he seemed to genuinely want to know something about him, something that wasn't a response to a conversation started by him.</p><p class="western">"Well…" Blaine wanted to give him an honest answer. He didn't just want to say that he liked books, like he had told most people who had asked why he was doing this. "It was my dream when I was a little boy, but then I guess that I sort of forgot about it until very recently. You know how life sort of gets in the way?" He made a gesture to convey it didn't matter, but it did. No one should have to forget about their dreams because you have other things to worry about while you're growing up. Like bullies and lack of friends. "I decided to become a librarian because it was pretty close, but without the risk of starting your own business. I just always have wanted to be surrounded by books, because there's something so comforting about being surrounded by so many stories, so many possible happy endings, so many stories sadder than yours…"</p><p class="western">There was something in Kurt's eyes, a different light, something that hadn't been there before. Blaine couldn't tell what it was, but he didn't want it to go out.</p><p class="western">"I thought about it every now and then, but first I was in college and I couldn't afford to open my own business, and then I got the job at Dalton, and it seemed unattainable," Blaine continued. "And then, a couple of months ago…" he could feel his throat constricting before he even tried to say the words. How could it still affect him so much? "A couple of months ago, my Dad died…"</p><p class="western">Kurt moved forward abruptly in a knee-jerk reaction, just a few inches, but Blaine caught it anyway. He stopped dead in his tracks, wrapping his arms around himself, and for a moment, for a crazy moment, Blaine wondered if Kurt had almost rushed to him to pull him into a hug.</p><p class="western">"Blaine, I …" Kurt muttered, a little breathlessly. His voice was softer, higher in pitch than he had ever heard it before. "That's terrible…"</p><p class="western">Blaine's lips curled up slightly, noticing that Kurt didn't say he was sorry for Blaine's loss. He had to be the first person who hadn't since his father's death. It was kind of refreshing. "It was. It is, still, sometimes, especially for my Mom… but, you know, life goes on, I guess?" After a few seconds, Kurt gave him the briefest of nods, as if inviting him to continue. "The thing is… he left me some money, and I thought this was the perfect way to spend it. I mean… he died very suddenly, and it made me think, what am I waiting for?" He shook his head, as if he couldn't believe his own words. He looked down at his hands, tangled together in his lap. "I've played it safe my whole life, and it just didn't make sense anymore. Maybe this isn't a huge risk; maybe this isn't the biggest change I could make, but… It's the only dream I've ever known and I have to follow it, wherever it takes me…" He paused. The perfectly suited quote popped into his head, so he recited it: "<em>I think that one of these days you're going to have to find out where you want to go. And then –…</em>"</p><p class="western">"…<em>you've got to start going there</em>."</p><p class="western">Blaine looked up, shocked, as Kurt finished the quote for him. Something tugged loose inside of Blaine's chest, then it twirled, jumped, twitched, spasmed. He seemed to have lost the ability to both breathe and talk at the same time. "You…"</p><p class="western">"That was one of my favorite quotes when I was in high school," Kurt explained softly. "I think I even wrote it on construction paper and hung it in my locker."</p><p class="western">"You liked <em>The Catcher in the Rye </em>too?" Blaine asked, curiously. He had never in his life found someone who could quote that book by heart like he could.</p><p class="western">"Of course, it's a classic," Kurt replied, as if it wasn't a big deal, but the way Blaine was staring at him must have affected him somehow, because a slight blush appeared in his face. "I think I was the only one in my English class who actually enjoyed the book. I really loved that line that says that all morons hate it when you call them a moron, because I was constantly surrounded by them and, let me tell you, they <em>really </em>didn't like it when I pointed it out."</p><p class="western">Blaine smiled. He couldn't really do anything else. He smiled, with all his heart, as he stared at this man who seemed to be full of surprises.</p><p class="western">Kurt bit his lip, clearly a little bit surprised that he had opened up like that, and broke the eye contact, before shrugging once again. "So… good for you. That you decided to finally do this," he turned to get back to work. "But you know, for future reference, I'm not going to ask you about anything else, because that was one hell of a long answer."</p><p class="western">Blaine couldn't stop himself from laughing wholeheartedly, because there was a hint of a smile on Kurt's lips, and because, for the first time in a very, very long time, he felt like he actually had a reason to.</p><hr/><p class="western">Blaine had loathed Friday nights since he'd been in high school. People around him were always making plans to meet with friends, go to parties, have fun, while Blaine Anderson, with his thick-rimmed glasses and his patterned bowties, always stayed at home, with a pile of books next to his bed, reading until three in the morning and pretending the tears blotting the pages were because of what he was reading and not because of how lonely he was.</p><p class="western">Now, an adult, he still felt particularly lonely on Friday nights. He hated driving home and seeing other people going the opposite way, to have dinner at restaurants, to go out on dates, while waiting for him at home was still that pile of books, with the addition of a bottle of beer and maybe some leftover dinner.</p><p class="western">He felt pathetic, but he had never known how to change that.</p><p class="western">That was probably why, reluctant to go to his empty apartment, he stayed at the bookshop. Once Kurt was done for the day, Blaine went to the Lima Bean for a Medium Drip and a blueberry muffin, and then came back, locked the door behind him and went to the backroom to start sorting through some of the boxes of books that had already arrived from several publishing houses, deciding to group them by genre so it would be easier to stock them once he installed the shelves. He sat on the floor, opening one box after the other, sipping his coffee and taking bites from the muffin, as he examined every single book with absorbed interest.</p><p class="western">He usually preferred old books (they came with two stories: the one inside the pages, and the one that had to do with the history of the book itself), but there was also something wonderful about new books, too: the way they smelled, the way the covers shone in the light, how exciting it was to know that no one had yet discovered the adventures waiting inside, and wondering who would get to do it, and how it would affect them…</p><p class="western">Blaine wondered if anyone else ever thought about books the same way he did.</p><p class="western">He didn't stay as long as he would have liked to – he did have to drive all the way back home to Westerville, so after a couple of the boxes were sorted, he grabbed his empty cup, his satchel, his computer, and his keys, and made his way out of the book store.</p><p class="western">Blaine was soon very grateful that he had decided to leave while it was still relatively early, because after driving a short way, he discovered his car was making strange noises. He frowned and listened intently, but he knew nothing about cars and had no idea what exactly was wrong.</p><p class="western">As if it had been predestined, Blaine took a turn onto a street he had never been to before, to avoid traffic in case there was something really wrong with the car – and the first thing he saw was an auto repair shop.</p><p class="western">It was late, so in case it was about to close, Blaine hurried to park in the lot. Two employees walked out as he pulled in, making their way home. Blaine growled anxiously. He hoped he wouldn't be stuck in Lima for the night. He really didn't want to make his mother drive all the way here to pick him up, and he obviously had no one else to call.</p><p class="western">He got out of the car. The shop seemed empty, but he knew someone had to still be there because the lights were still on. "Hello?" He called tentatively, walking towards the counter.</p><p class="western">"Just a minute, please!" A voice said from behind the door of what Blaine could only assume was an office. Just a few seconds later, a tall man in a blue coverall liberally covered in grease and wearing a baseball cap with the Buckeyes logo in it appeared behind the counter. "Hi, how can I help you?"</p><p class="western">Blaine smiled politely. "Hi. I'm so sorry for coming at such a late hour, but I was driving back home and my car started making a really weird noise and I thought it'd be better to have it checked…"</p><p class="western">"What kind of noise was it making?" The man asked kindly, as he followed Blaine back to his car.</p><p class="western">Blaine did his best to explain how it had sounded, hoping he wasn't looking like an idiot in front of this stranger, who patted his back in a friendly manner.</p><p class="western">"I'll take care of it, buddy, don't worry."</p><p class="western">"Oh, thank you. I really appreciate it," Blaine breathed in relief. "No problem. It's what I do."</p><p class="western">For a few minutes, Blaine watched the man as he checked over the car, looking for the source of the noise Blaine had described. Blaine stayed at one side, trying not to get in the way. He did his best to answer all the questions the man had about the last time he had the car checked, and when he had changed the oil, and a million other things.</p><p class="western">Just as the mechanic identified the problem, someone walked into the shop.</p><p class="western">"Dad! Are you working late again? Carole has dinner ready and we're all waiting for you back at the…"</p><p class="western">Blaine's shocked expression mirrored Kurt's as he abruptly stopped talking when he realized who his – apparently father's – late staying customer was.</p><p class="western">"I know, I know. It'll only take me ten more minutes to finish here, I promise," Kurt's dad answered. "You can tell Carole I'll be there soon, Kurt."</p><p class="western">"Kurt?" Blaine said, finally regaining the ability to speak.</p><p class="western">It wasn't that shocking to find Kurt at an autoshop in Lima – after all, he lived there, and there was no reason why his father couldn't be a mechanic. That was all perfectly normal. What had actually shocked Blaine right to his core, was how different Kurt looked.</p><p class="western">The usual worn jeans and tight white or black short sleeved V-neck had disappeared (so had the toolbelt, Blaine noted absurdly). There was no sign of the black combat boots either, and even Kurt's hair looked different, impeccably styled instead of carelessly falling to frame his face. His clothes were simply mesmerizing, so perfectly combined that the outfit had to have been meticulously planned. The black pants Kurt was wearing were so tight that they could've been painted on, matched with a white button down with studs along the collar, and a snuggly fitted grey vest. He was wearing black ankle boots and a brooch on the left side of his vest, a pair of scissors with a little chain in it.</p><p class="western">Kurt shifted on his feet, uncomfortable at Blaine's close scrutiny. "W-what are you doing here, Blaine?"</p><p class="western">"You two know each other?" The older man asked curiously, as he returned to Blaine's car.</p><p class="western">"Y-yeah, I'm working for him," Kurt answered, and he was avoiding Blaine's eyes. "Uhm. Dad, this is Blaine Anderson. Blaine, this is my father, Burt Hummel."</p><p class="western">Blaine was able to shake himself out of his daze long enough to remember his manners, offering his hand to Burt. "Very nice to officially meet you, sir."</p><p class="western">"Same here, buddy," Burt said. "This will take just a few minutes. You can sit there, if you want," he added, pointing towards some plastic chairs lined against a wall to form sort of a waiting area.</p><p class="western">Blaine nodded and walked in that direction. Kurt sighed heavily and followed.</p><p class="western">"Did you come track me down here on purpose?" Kurt asked, staring down at Blaine once he had sat down.</p><p class="western">Blaine's eyes widened in confusion. "No? My car was acting up and I was driving by, so I decided to stop and have it checked." He blinked, fixing Kurt with a worried glance. "Is everything okay?"</p><p class="western">"You're not supposed to be here," Kurt replied softly, blue eyes falling down to stare at his boots. "T-this is… and my dad is… and I look like…"</p><p class="western">Blaine could tell this was difficult for Kurt, even if he didn't understand why, so he smiled encouragingly. "Well, you look really good, if that helps at all. Your shirt is great. Is it designer?"</p><p class="western">"McQueen," Kurt breathed absently. He ran a hand over his face, frustrated. "Look, Blaine, I…" He bit his lip, at a loss for words. "I don't do this."</p><p class="western">"Do what?" Blaine was even more confused.</p><p class="western">"This," Kurt gestured at himself. Blaine could tell he was beginning to get irritated. "Allow people to see me like this, dressed like this."</p><p class="western">"Why not?" Blaine tilted his head to the side appraisingly. "You look fantastic."</p><p class="western">Kurt's breath seemed to catch in his throat for the briefest of moments, but he shook his head. "Because I can't. It's complicated. And I… I-I'm not even sure why I'm telling you this."</p><p class="western">"Hey, come on," Blaine stood up when Kurt turned to leave, having clearly decided to just abandon him there at the autoshop. "I told you, you can be whoever you want…"</p><p class="western">"That's just in your stupid book store!" Kurt exclaimed, a little louder than he intended, if the way he flinched was any indication. He closed his eyes, then looked back to see if his dad was watching them. "I can be whoever I want in your bookshop, and not completely even then. And at my house, and my parents' house. But that's it. Because the rest of the world doesn't want to see <em>me</em>. The real me. They know who I am, they know <em>what </em>I am, but they don't want to see me showing it…"</p><p class="western">Blaine reached instinctively for Kurt's wrist, closing his fingers around it. "Kurt… are you saying that you…"</p><p class="western">"I do what I have to do to survive in the outside world, but…" Kurt took a deep quivering breath, and for a moment Blaine was convinced he was about to cry. "But when I'm in my own world, I just want to be myself. And I can't have you walking into it like this. I can't let you or anyone else past the boundaries I set a long time ago…"</p><p class="western">"I'm sorry," Blaine murmured softly. "I didn't know, Kurt. I didn't know this was your dad's shop. I only stopped here because I wasn't sure the car would make it home safely. I… I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable in any way…"</p><p class="western">Kurt pulled his arm free from Blaine's grip. "I know. I just… I just need to make sure that… that when I go back to work on Monday, you won't mention this." He looked right into Blaine's eyes, almost challenging him. "Can you do that for me? Pretend you didn't see me here today?"</p><p class="western">Blaine wanted to know why. He really wanted to know why Kurt was asking him to forget that when he was himself, Kurt was absolutely, breathtakingly, overwhelmingly beautiful. He already was unfairly attractive on a daily basis, but here, now? Like this? Kurt's beauty could almost make Blaine's heart stop.</p><p class="western">But he couldn't say no. If this was what Kurt wanted, Blaine would do it.</p><p class="western">And in that very second, the strangest thought crossed Blaine's mind. He suspected that if Kurt asked, there was nothing he wouldn't do…</p><p class="western">"Of course, if that's what you want," he agreed softly. He wanted to reach for his hand again, but he didn't.</p><p class="western">Kurt nodded, his eyes falling. "Thank you," he said, in just a whisper. He took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder. "Dad, I'll see you back at the house. You have five minutes before Carole comes here to get you herself!"</p><p class="western">"Yeah, yeah, kiddo, I know," Burt exclaimed from under the hood where he was still working on Blaine's car.</p><p class="western">Kurt's gaze flashed back to Blaine for a moment. "I'll see you on Monday."</p><p class="western">Blaine parted his lips to reply, but Kurt had spun on his heels and dashed out of the shop already. He found himself staring after him, his fingers tingling where they had been pressed against the skin of Kurt's wrist.</p><p class="western">"So you're Kurt's new boss."</p><p class="western">Blaine startled, not expecting Burt's voice to be so close. The man was standing right next to him. "I… yeah."</p><p class="western">Burt continued, gruffly. "He tells me you're the first guy he's ever worked for who treats him like a human being."</p><p class="western">Blaine turned to Burt, a little surprised. "Really?"</p><p class="western">With a short nod, Burt put his hand on Blaine's shoulder. "He's had a rough go, for a very long time now. I think he's forgotten people can actually be nice. Thank you for reminding him of that."</p><p class="western">Blaine was left open mouthed in surprise. He stared at this man, who looked so tough on the outside, but Blaine could already tell he had a heart of gold. He was visibly relieved that his son was catching a break from whatever it was that had been making Kurt's life so rough. Blaine tried to find the right words to say, but he couldn't find any.</p><p class="western">For someone who read so much, who had always found comfort in words, Blaine seemed to find himself speechless a lot when he was around Kurt, or talking about him.</p><p class="western">Burt cleared his throat, his hand falling off Blaine's shoulder. "Your car just needed some brake fluid. You were very wise to stop and have it checked. It could've been dangerous to keep driving it like that."</p><p class="western">"I'm glad I did, then," Blaine reached for his wallet. "So how much is it?"</p><p class="western">Burt shook his head. "Nothing, bud."</p><p class="western">"What? Mr. Hummel, I can't accept – …"</p><p class="western">"Sure you can," Burt insisted, gently pushing away the bills Blaine was trying to hand to him. "You just keep being decent to my son, and that'll be enough payment for me."</p><p class="western">"But…"</p><p class="western">"Blaine, I mean it."</p><p class="western">Blaine knew it was a lost cause so, reluctantly, he put his wallet back in his pocket. "Thank you so much."</p><p class="western">"Don't mention it," Burt handed Blaine his keys back, and walked behind the counter to turn off the lights. "Have a nice weekend, buddy."</p><p class="western">Blaine offered him a small smile. "You too, Mr. Hummel."</p><p class="western">By the time Blaine finally made it back to his apartment, his head was so full of confusing thoughts swirling around that they pretty much made up for the lack of company.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">It took every bit of willpower Blaine had not to drive back to Mr. Hummel's tire shop that weekend.</p><p class="western">Kurt was a mystery, full of questions without any answers. Blaine couldn't understand why he suddenly felt so drawn to someone he initially could barely stand. And now… now he was inventing new tasks for Kurt to do, just to keep him around a little longer.</p><p class="western">He <em>needed </em>to know. He needed to find out why Kurt behaved the way he did, what had scared him enough to try to hide, why his eyes were so full of sadness all the time. Such beautiful eyes shouldn't ever look so sad…</p><p class="western">And yet, it was none of his business. He had promised Kurt he wouldn't go back to his father's garage, or mention that they had met there. He had promised, and Blaine didn't believe in breaking promises.</p><p class="western">Although that didn't stop him from constantly thinking about Kurt, as if he was some riddle he needed to solve.</p><hr/><p class="western">In the end, Blaine didn't have to worry about breaking his promise and doing exactly what he had pledged Kurt he wouldn't do, because it was Kurt who brought it up first.</p><p class="western">When Blaine got out of his car on Monday morning, Kurt was already at the book store, leaning next to the door, with his sunglasses in place, looking at the neighborhood with indifference.</p><p class="western">"Good morning, Kurt," he said with a gentle smile, as he pulled the keys out of his pocket to open the door.</p><p class="western">"Hey," Kurt replied casually, as he grabbed his toolbox and bag from his feet to follow Blaine inside.</p><p class="western">Blaine dropped his satchel on the armchair and instantly started rummaging for his wallet. "I really need a coffee. Do you want me to get you anything? I'll make a quick Lima Bean run…"</p><p class="western">Kurt was still settling his stuff on the other side of the room and turned to look at Blaine a little awkwardly. "I… actually…" he sighed. "So… I don't know what the hell happened on Friday after I left, or what you and my father discussed, but…"</p><p class="western">Blaine's eyes went wide in surprise. "I thought you said you didn't want to talk about it."</p><p class="western">"And I really don't," Kurt continued, running a hand through his hair. "But this morning, when I woke up, my stepmother stopped by my house on her way to work and gave me a box of her famous freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and told me they were for <em>you</em>."</p><p class="western">Blaine could only blink. "What?"</p><p class="western">Kurt fished a plastic container out of his bag and practically shoved it into Blaine's hands. "Here."</p><p class="western">"But… why?" Blaine asked, mystified, as he opened the container to peek inside.</p><p class="western">"I don't know," Kurt shrugged, and he looked truly uncomfortable. "And I don't want to know either. Whatever you and my Dad talked about… just don't tell me."</p><p class="western">Blaine thought about what Burt had said about him being the first guy Kurt had ever worked for who treated him decently, and nodded. It had to be something about that. "Well, thank you, Kurt. And please let your stepmother know…"</p><p class="western">"Yeah, yeah," Kurt waved him off. "Just go get your coffee so I can pretend this conversation never happened."</p><p class="western">Blaine rolled his eyes, put the cookies down on the table, and walked out of the shop to the Lima Bean. He returned with two cups of coffee and persuaded Kurt to grab a cookie.</p><p class="western">They didn't get much done that morning.</p><hr/><p class="western">"Tell me about your dad."</p><p class="western">Blaine had been kneeling on the floor, organizing the books that still needed to be sorted out into different categories, but he looked up at that, eyebrows all the way up to his hairline, a cook book in one hand and <em>Huckleberry Finn </em>in the other.</p><p class="western">"My dad?" He asked, a little confused.</p><p class="western">"Yeah," Kurt muttered, leaning against the wall and taking a sip of water from a bottle, as he watched Blaine. "You mentioned him in passing a few times, and I feel like there's a story there that you need to tell…"</p><p class="western">Blaine frowned. "And you want to hear it?"</p><p class="western">Kurt rolled his eyes and stepped away from the wall to put his water bottle back in his bag. "Fine. Sorry. Professionalism. I forgot for a second."</p><p class="western">"No, no," Blaine hurried to say, gently putting the books down. "It's not that. I just didn't think you would care…"</p><p class="western">"Right. You probably talk about this stuff with your friends," Kurt shrugged, as he rummaged through his toolbox until he found what he was looking for.</p><p class="western">Blaine's eyes fell to fix on the floor. He heard himself say in the quietest of voices, before he could stop the words from coming out of his mouth: "I don't actually have any friends."</p><p class="western">The fact that Kurt seemed so completely shocked almost made Blaine miss the way his blue eyes suddenly filled with something else, some kind of ache, some kind of longing, of understanding? "Seriously? <em>You </em>don't have any friends? You have to be one of the most disgustingly likeable guys I've ever met in my life. How is that even possible?"</p><p class="western">Blaine could feel the blush creeping up his face, and avoided Kurt's gaze. "I'm just… you know, kind of shy and awkward."</p><p class="western">"Really? I hadn't noticed," Kurt said with an amused smirk that made Blaine chuckle.</p><p class="western">"Besides, it's not like you like me, either," Blaine added, blushing harder. What Kurt had told him weeks ago still haunted his thoughts, but he didn't want Kurt to know. "You told me that yourself."</p><p class="western">Kurt shrugged, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. "So, maybe I changed my mind…"</p><p class="western">Blaine bit his lip, keeping the smile that was threatening to take over his face at bay. "Oh…"</p><p class="western">They didn't say anything else. Kurt went back to working, and Blaine went back to sorting out the books.</p><p class="western">Every second of every day, Kurt was unpredictable. Blaine wouldn't have imagined the first day they met, that the rude asshole he immediately decided wouldn't ever work for him, could make him feel like <em>this</em>. He felt a constant tug deep within him that tried to push him to get closer, to learn him, to unravel the enigma of Kurt Hummel. Blaine was spell-bound; fascinated by the deep, color-changing pools of his eyes, by the unexpected kindness emerging when Kurt was clearly trying to suppress it. He wanted to learn the secrets swirling around in him, tempting him like a bright light attracting a moth towards its certain death. And wasn't that what Blaine was doing? Wishing he could get close enough to risk being burnt?</p><p class="western">He was attracted to Kurt, but not just because of the way he looked (and let's face it, he looked amazing), but because he was the most enthrallingly unique man he had ever met… but he was trying to hide that. Kurt was trying to hide his uniqueness, to blend with everyone else, with people he clearly hated, in a town he hated living in… but <em>why</em>?</p><p class="western">And here he was, standing in the middle of his bookshop, working with his back to Blaine, and all he could think about was how sincere and earnest he had seemed when he asked him about his father. Kurt was right: there was a story there he wanted to tell, a story that had affected his life. Blaine knew he could talk to his own mother about his father whenever he needed to, but he didn't want to risk making her even sadder, especially when she seemed to finally be getting back to normal.</p><p class="western">Kurt had offered to listen. He had offered, as if he <em>cared</em>. And Blaine was almost aching for someone to care.</p><p class="western">"It was a car accident," Blaine finally said, in a soft voice. Kurt turned to look at him, apparently surprised that he had spoken after several minutes of silence. "He was coming home from work – he was a partner in a financial company – and it just happened, a fluke out of nowhere."</p><p class="western">Kurt didn't say anything, he just sat down on the floor with his back against the wall and watched Blaine, showing him he had all his attention, but without coming closer, as if he wanted to give him his space, letting him set the pace for the conversation.</p><p class="western">"When my mom called to tell me… I didn't believe her at first," Blaine smiled sadly. "I drove to their house and it was only when I got there that I realized she wasn't lying, that it was true and he was really gone." Blaine glanced at the box in front of him, grabbed a random book and held it, as if just having it in his hands would comfort him.</p><p class="western">"You had a close relationship with him, I take it?" Kurt asked quietly.</p><p class="western">Blaine frowned. "Not really. I mean… it's not that we argued, or anything. I just… I didn't really <em>know </em>him, you know?" Blaine flipped the book open and looked down at it, without really seeing the words in the pages. "For a very long time, I thought he didn't like me, that he was just being polite because he had to… but it turns out I was wrong. He always loved me, he just wasn't very demonstrative. He wasn't open about sharing his feelings. He was just a quiet man with communication issues, and now I know that I could've had the most amazing relationship with him, but it's too late to fix it." With a sigh, Blaine closed the book and put it back into the box. "I spent years thinking he disapproved of me because I'm gay, and because I spend more time with books than with people, but it turns out that if I hadn't been so scared to be rejected by him, and just asked him, I wouldn't have had to wait until he was dead to know how wrong I was."</p><p class="western">"He could've come and talked to you, too," Kurt muttered and when Blaine glanced at him, he saw he was smiling faintly. "Don't feel like it's all your fault, Blaine. Both of you made mistakes, but he should've taken the first step. Kids need their parents to take the first step, sometimes…"</p><p class="western">"When I think that he should have been the one taking the first step, it makes me so angry, though," Blaine said, and it was the first time he actually voiced that. "Because he actually waited until it was too late, … he decided to show me he cared about me by leaving money to an LGBT project and a library in his will. And trust me, it means a lot that he did that. I was so touched… but why couldn't he just do what any normal father would and <em>tell </em>me he loved me?"</p><p class="western">"Blaine," Kurt said, resting his elbows on his knees to lean forward, fixing Blaine with those intense blue eyes. "That is a <em>lot </em>more than normal fathers do. Maybe he didn't know how to approach you face to face when he was alive, but don't tell me it didn't make you feel overwhelmingly loved that your father knew you well enough, knew about the things you care about, to actually do something like that."</p><p class="western">Blaine wrapped his arms around himself. "I was so shocked… I couldn't believe he would do something like that."</p><p class="western">"You said you didn't really know him," Kurt murmured, as he straightened his back and rested again against the wall. "But, to me, it seems like you already know the most important thing about him."</p><p class="western">"What?" Blaine asked, a bit breathless.</p><p class="western">"He cared about you," Kurt answered. "And deeply. If not, why would have he taken the time to add those things to his will? He knew what was important to you, and he made sure you'd find out it was important for him, too. You mattered to him, and maybe he failed in letting you know that in time to give him a hug and go to a football game, but he clearly wanted to make sure that, even if he did fail to say it, you would still know." Kurt stood up, grabbed something from his bag and walked to Blaine, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder that let go too soon. "And that, to me, counts for a lot."</p><p class="western">He dropped a tissue on Blaine's lap and only then did Blaine realize that his eyes were wet and that he had stopped breathing while Kurt was talking. Kurt went to the backroom, disappeared, probably deciding it was better to give him a moment, and Blaine clenched the tissue between his fingers, as he took a sharp breath in.</p><p class="western">What Kurt had said may not have been the most shocking thing Blaine had ever heard. He might have reached that conclusion himself if he had allowed himself to actually think more about it, but it was the way Kurt had spoken to him, the way he had so obviously chosen his words so carefully, the way he had pushed them into Blaine's chest, so they could wrap themselves around Blaine's heart, that meant so much to him.</p><p class="western">When Kurt returned, he was back to his old self, all his walls back up again, no traces of compassion or kindness visible in his face. Blaine pretended he didn't notice, he pretended he wasn't disappointed that he couldn't bring all those walls down completely, help Kurt be free, help him be whoever he really was.</p><p class="western">But for now, Blaine found comfort in knowing that Kurt had decided to push his own boundaries enough to talk to him about something that clearly affected Blaine deeply. Blaine hadn't thrust that conversation upon Kurt – Kurt had offered to listen.</p><p class="western">And that, Blaine hoped, had to mean something.</p><hr/><p class="western">Since the little meltdown Heather had had not long ago, Blaine made a point of taking her out for lunch at least once a week, making sure that she had someone to talk to, and that she wasn't staying home, letting grief swallow her whole.</p><p class="western">This was one of those days. Blaine had told Kurt the previous day to let himself in with the spare key, so now he found himself sitting in one of his mother's favorite restaurants, scanning the menu, and sort of wishing he could just order a plain cheeseburger. Instead, he looked up at the waitress with a smile and ordered the pasta with calamari, while Heather chose the salmon.</p><p class="western">"So, how's the bookstore coming along?" Heather asked once they were alone, sipping a bit of water from her glass. "Do you have a date for the opening yet?"</p><p class="western">"No, not yet," Blaine replied. "Maybe in a month, or so. I'm not sure how much longer it'll take."</p><p class="western">"You must be getting really impatient," she commented with a knowing smile.</p><p class="western">Blaine had to stop short at that. Once, not too long ago, he was impatient. But lately, he was so busy trying to understand Kurt that he had somehow forgotten about how desperately he wanted to open his bookshop. It didn't mean he wasn't excited about it anymore. It just meant that he wasn't so impatient to have the renovations done as he had been at first.</p><p class="western">When it all had started, it was all about focusing on the goal and tolerating Kurt. Now, it was all about enjoying the ride and the (odd, he had to admit) company, too.</p><p class="western">"A little, but I'm having a lot of fun seeing everything coming together," Blaine answered with a little shrug.</p><p class="western">"You'll have to take me there so I can see it," Heather patted his hand. "I'm very happy for you."</p><p class="western">"Thanks, Mom," Blaine smiled brightly. "But I actually want to take you to see it when it's almost done. Now it's dirty and messy and Kurt's tools are everywhere…"</p><p class="western">"How is it going, with this Kurt guy?" Heather asked, arching an eyebrow. "He seemed to be giving you a lot of trouble at first."</p><p class="western">"Not anymore. He's better now," Blaine assured her. "He was sort of an… acquired taste. I'm used to him now." He knew that if he kept talking about Kurt, his fascination with him would show, so he decided to move the conversation to safer topics. "What about you? How's that new project that you told me you were starting with your friends?"</p><p class="western">"Oh, it's going wonderfully," Heather said, and some of the enthusiasm that had been dead in her since Mark's death seemed to finally make its way back to her eyes. "We've decided to organize an auction to raise funds for the children's hospital. I'm actually going to need your help if you have any spare time…"</p><p class="western">"Of course, Mom, how can I help?" He said, eager to keep her happy and distracted.</p><p class="western">"I need to go through the stuff we have in the attic and the basement," she answered, as the waitress returned with their food. They smiled at her and thanked her. "We have lots of antiques I could donate for the auction, things I haven't used in years. But I want to make sure I don't give away anything that you would like to keep for yourself, or anything that has sentimental value."</p><p class="western">"Maybe I can come over next weekend," Blaine replied. "Week days are pretty busy, but I spend most of my weekends at home, so…"</p><p class="western">"Blaine," Heather narrowed her eyes and leaned over the table. "Are you locking yourself up at your apartment? Does this have anything to do with your date with Josh…?"</p><p class="western">"Mom, no," Blaine hurried to say, definitely not wanting to talk about him. "It has nothing to do with <em>that</em>. I just… when did <em>I </em>ever have any exciting plans for the weekend? And I get stressed a lot during the week with the shop, so mostly I just want to relax and watch old Buckeyes games and read and…"</p><p class="western">"Okay, okay," Heather sighed. She grabbed his hand. "Honey, you know I worry about you constantly. You can't blame me for wanting you to be happy."</p><p class="western">"But I <em>am </em>happy," Blaine lied, and as if it would make it true just by saying it again, he added: "I am."</p><p class="western">She looked at him in the eyes for a moment, before asking: "so, how's your pasta? This is delicious. Would you like to try some?"</p><p class="western">Blaine felt relieved when the conversation moved on to lighter topics for the rest of the meal.</p><hr/><p class="western">It was early afternoon by the time Blaine made it to the bookshop after his lunch date with his mother. He hadn't wanted to leave Kurt on his own for too long, knowing he wouldn't take his lunch break until Blaine arrived. So he parked the car next to Kurt's truck in front of the shop, and walked inside, while thinking that maybe he could start working on the inventory while Kurt left to get something to eat…</p><p class="western">But when he entered the bookshop, he completely forgot about it, because it was so loud in there, and the sounds weren't coming from any of those big, electric tools Kurt owned.</p><p class="western">It was Kurt hitting the wall Blaine wanted to knock down with a huge, heavy sledgehammer.</p><p class="western">"Kurt?" Blaine called, a little surprised, and a little confused. "I thought you weren't going to start with that until next week, and that you were going to work on… Kurt?"</p><p class="western">Blaine hesitated, and he knew, <em>he knew</em>, something had to be wrong. Kurt was hitting the wall so violently, without even noticing Blaine was there. It couldn't be just because he was so focused on what he was doing. The muscles in his back and arms strained with every blow, his white t-shirt was clinging to his body with sweat, and there was a huge hole in the wall where he was hitting it, rubble falling all around.</p><p class="western">Blaine had never seen anyone work like that, so violently, so desperately. And he knew it was just a matter of time until Kurt hurt himself if Blaine didn't stop him…</p><p class="western">And then he saw the tears.</p><p class="western">They were running down Kurt's cheeks, silent and furious, spilling from his eyes in little unstoppable waterfalls that Blaine couldn't bear to look at.</p><p class="western">"Kurt!" He exclaimed, taking a few steps closer. Kurt didn't even acknowledge him. "Kurt, stop!"</p><p class="western">Instead of stopping, Kurt hit the wall even harder, fingers completely white from the tight grip around the sledgehammer. He was panting and gasping, and Blaine could tell a few broken sobs were threatening to escape.</p><p class="western">"Kurt, stop, you're going to hurt yourself!" Blaine yelled over the noise. He knew that trying to physically stop Kurt himself could get him hurt, but he had to take the risk. He couldn't see Kurt doing this to himself. It seemed like all the hurt Kurt was experiencing was splitting him open. "Kurt!"</p><p class="western">Blaine wrapped his arms around him from behind, pulling him away from the wall, but Kurt tried to fight him, struggling to break free, until his strength suddenly seemed to vanish. Blaine put a hand on his arm, stoping him from attempting to hit the wall once again, and then let that hand travel down Kurt's arm, to peel his fingers off the mallet.</p><p class="western">"Ssh, Kurt, it's okay," Blaine whispered in his ear. He could feel Kurt's wild heartbeat and could feel him heaving against him. "It's okay, everything's fine…"</p><p class="western">"Let go of me, Anderson!" Kurt yelled furiously. "Don't touch me!"</p><p class="western">"I won't let go of you until you calm down!" Blaine replied steadily, tightening his arms around him. "You're going to get hurt!"</p><p class="western">"That's none of your goddamn business! Why would <em>you </em>care?" Kurt was still weakly fighting to make Blaine let go of him, but he wasn't succeeding. "Leave me the fuck alone!"</p><p class="western">"I'm not letting go," Blaine said softly, soothing. "I'm not letting go of you, Kurt. I've got you…"</p><p class="western">Kurt tried to take a deep breath. "Blaine… please…"</p><p class="western">He was tired. He was tired of fighting, he was crumbling, and Blaine was there to catch him. Blaine wasn't letting go. "I've got you, Kurt," he repeated, pressing his forehead against Kurt's temple. "I'm right here."</p><p class="western">Kurt's knees gave out and if it wasn't for Blaine holding him, he would've collapsed to the floor. Blaine held him in his arms and slowly lowered them down to the floor, sliding against the wall, pulling Kurt closer to his chest as he broke down, tears racing down his cheeks as his sobs finally made their way out. Blaine's heart clenched painfully: it was like watching a porcelain doll fall, crashing against the floor, breaking into a million pieces. He held Kurt and felt him crack in his arms, in his hands, broken, finally broken and defeated, but still so painfully beautiful, so perfect and sad.</p><p class="western">Curled between Blaine's legs, with his face hidden in his chest, Kurt's hands closed in Blaine's shirt. His fists wrinkled the fabric in their attempt to find something to keep him anchored, as if he was afraid he would drift away if he didn't hold on, as if he was afraid he would get lost. Blaine allowed him to hold on as much as he needed to, safe in his arms. He had no idea what had happened; he was scared, too.</p><p class="western">It had to have been something horrible. Kurt rarely showed any emotions at all, always hiding behind his carefully built walls, but this… this was so unexpected. It was the first time Blaine had looked at him and realized Kurt was as human as he was – for a long time he had seemed made of ice. And now, now he wasn't some heartless, rude asshole, or just a beautiful unreachable entity. <em>This </em>was the real Kurt. He had a pulse, and he could hurt and break just as much as Blaine. He was holding Kurt, and Blaine didn't want to let go ever again.</p><p class="western">He cried for such a long time that Blaine was starting to think it would never end. He wondered if Kurt would cry himself to exhaustion, or even to death. The way his body was shaking with the force of his sobs was absolutely heartbreaking, and Blaine found himself rubbing his back and making soothing noises, not sure how else to help the broken man in his arms.</p><p class="western">But finally Kurt quietened, though his fists were still clenched tightly in Blaine's clothes, and tried to take some deep breaths to steady himself. Blaine ran his fingers soothingly through his hair, and waited, as patiently as he could.</p><p class="western">Kurt slowly lifted his head, sniffling, and when he looked up at Blaine, he felt himself going breathless at the sight. Kurt's eyes were so wide, and so blue, and his lips were slightly parted, and there was a light blush covering his pale skin, whether from all the crying or from embarrassment, Blaine didn't know. What he did know, was that Kurt took his breath away. He was so gorgeous, and so miserable, and all Blaine wanted to do was promise that he would always keep him safe, and take care of him.</p><p class="western">No words emerged from his mouth, though. Instead, Blaine leaned, slowly, so slowly, until his lips were hovering over Kurt's, giving him the chance to pull away. But Kurt didn't move away, and Blaine had to, he just <em>had </em>to kiss him, because maybe one kiss was enough to take the pain away. And if it wasn't, then at least it was a good place to start.</p><p class="western">It was soft and tender, but only for a couple of seconds. Then, desperation and need took over, as Kurt pushed into it, claiming Blaine's mouth, and taking the comfort he needed. Blaine held him close and tasted – tears, coffee, and Kurt, just <em>Kurt </em>– as he felt Kurt's lips parting even more, inviting him in, asking for everything Blaine was willing to give.</p><p class="western">And right now, as Blaine cupped Kurt's face with a warm hand, and gently eased his tongue into Kurt's mouth, he realized he was willing to give him everything he had to give.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Lack of oxygen forced them to break apart but Blaine still didn't want to let go. He kept his arms around Kurt, supporting him against his chest. Kurt hid his face in Blaine's neck, clinging to him with every bit of strength he had, as he panted, misting Blaine's skin with his warm breath.</p><p class="western">"Ssh, it's okay," Blaine said for what felt like the hundredth time, rubbing circles on the small of Kurt's back. "It's okay. You're safe, Kurt."</p><p class="western">"It's never been okay," Kurt whispered, his voice hoarse from crying. "It'll never be okay."</p><p class="western">"Tell me what to do," Blaine begged. "I want to help. Tell me how."</p><p class="western">Kurt silently shook his head, feeling defeated.</p><p class="western">Blaine's hands carefully cupped his face and made him look up at him. His eyes were watery and so overwhelmingly blue, that Blaine felt himself drowning in them. "Hey, whatever it is, you can tell me…"</p><p class="western">"I don't… I can't… Blaine, please," Kurt bit his lip, reddening them even more under the pressure of his teeth, so Blaine leaned down and kissed him again, to distract him.</p><p class="western">Kurt dived into the kiss immediately, as if he'd found the answers to his problems. He wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck, pulling him closer, and whimpered. Blaine kissed him back, a little hungrily, hoping to soothe Kurt's pain, because he had no idea what else to do.</p><p class="western">What do you do with someone who always seemed so strong and now was crumbling in front of you? Even though Blaine had managed to crack Kurt's mask a few times, he'd also known how insistently stubborn he could be, and he couldn't help but wonder what could have happened to break him into pieces like this.</p><p class="western">Blaine had never considered himself particularly strong – he had always hidden away, burying his head behind a pile of books, using fantasy as a protective shield, keeping his eyes glued to the words when the world around him was too much to handle. And maybe Kurt had been hiding too (hadn't he actually admitted to it, a few days ago? Hadn't Blaine seen his true self, tastefully dressed, softer than usual, so incredibly scared of being unmasked?), but he wasn't weak. Not like Blaine. Kurt didn't hide from life; he walked around as if he owned it, as if nothing could touch him…</p><p class="western">But something obviously had touched him, and Blaine was afraid, because… what could be so bad to actually <em>break </em>someone like Kurt?</p><p class="western">Kurt's head dropped to his chest, his fingers still clinging to Blaine's shirt in a death grip. His voice was shaky when he muttered, "I'm so tired…"</p><p class="western">"I think you've had enough for today," Blaine said in a soothing voice, stroking Kurt's hair carefully. "Why don't you take the day off? Take all the time you need…"</p><p class="western">Kurt's brow furrowed. He seemed to hate the idea of not being busy – and Blaine once again found himself wondering; wondering if Kurt was avoiding facing his own thoughts, hiding from himself. "No," he said, a lot more firmly than Blaine had heard him in a while. "I don't want to… I… I don't want to be alone right now, Blaine."</p><p class="western">"You don't have to be alone," Blaine replied quietly. "I'll take you home, okay?"</p><p class="western">Kurt simply let Blaine help him up, without saying a word, without any resistance. He stood in the middle of the room, with his arms around himself, looking so utterly lost that it broke Blaine's heart to pieces, while Blaine turned the lights off, gathered their things, and grabbed his keys.</p><p class="western">"Where do you live? Is it far?" Blaine asked as he locked the door.</p><p class="western">Kurt stood in the sunlight, eyes wandering warily, as if he was scared someone would see him with his guard down. "A few streets from here. It's not far."</p><p class="western">"Then we'll take your truck, and I'll walk back here later for my car," Blaine answered, his fingers closed around Kurt's elbow to guide him to the truck, gently. "Okay if I drive?"</p><p class="western">"Of course…" Kurt dropped the truck's keys into Blaine's hand before climbing into the passenger's seat.</p><p class="western">Kurt only spoke enough to tell him how to get to his place, and then rested his temple against the window, closing his eyes. There was something inside of him emitting so much pain that Blaine had to fight the urge to to pull over to hold Kurt in his arms to reassure him that he would try to make everything better.</p><p class="western">Instead, Blaine continued to drive, because if that was what Kurt wanted right now, then that's what he'd do.</p><p class="western">He forced himself not to think about Kurt kissing him, about how it felt to kiss Kurt, how their lips felt as they moved together. He had no idea where that had come from; if Kurt had kissed him back only because he needed comfort, if he had kissed Kurt only because he wanted to comfort him. He didn't know if he had let his curiosity about Kurt get out of control. Was that what this was about? He was so obsessed with Kurt, with how mysterious, how much of an enigma he was, that he had confused it for something else? He'd always known Kurt was attractive – you'd have to be blind not to see that – but, had he kissed him just because he was good looking?</p><p class="western">It wasn't the right time to deal with his confusion. He had to push those thoughts away, because it was possible that Blaine was the only person Kurt could turn to for help right now, and he intended to be there for whatever he needed from him.</p><p class="western">Blaine turned left into the street Kurt had indicated and slowed the car, looking for the right house. Kurt's eyes opened, and he looked tired, so tired, as if he hadn't slept in years.</p><p class="western">"Third house on the left," he said simply and Blaine nodded.</p><p class="western">The two-story house was small, clearly not meant for a big family. It had enough room for a garden at the front, but Kurt obviously hadn't taken the time to put any flowers anywhere. It still looked well cared for. The door seemed to have been recently painted in a dark shade of blue. Blaine parked the car on the driveway, killing the engine, and turned to look at Kurt hesitantly.</p><p class="western">"I could make us some coffee and we could talk?" He offered. Just because Kurt didn't want to be alone, it didn't mean it would be okay for Blaine to just invade his personal space.</p><p class="western">"Sure," Kurt said in a soft voice that didn't sound a lot like him, and climbed out of the car.</p><p class="western">Kurt unlocked the door, and Blaine followed, making sure to wipe his shoes. It really was small, and it looked even smaller in the inside: the living room melted into a dining room, which was connected to the kitchen by a window-like partition. He was sure he could go all the way to the kitchen, and back to the front door in less than thirty steps. Blaine looked around a little bewildered, knowing he was staring right into Kurt. He believed there wasn't anything more intimate, more personal than a person's home. And if this was Kurt's home, then he was seeing to his core.</p><p class="western">It was tastefully decorated, in a warm, cozy kind of way. There was a comfortable looking couch where Blaine would've happily snuggle with one of his favorite books for hours. The coffee table had a few magazines on it, and the bookshelves housed a mixture of family pictures and books, both of which Blaine itched to get a better look at. The dining room table was small with only two chairs to sit on (everything seemed to be compact in here). The galley kitchen was spotless, though only big enough for one person to work at the counter. Blaine imagined himself trying to help Kurt cook there, bumping against him every few seconds, laughing, dancing around each other…</p><p class="western">Kurt was standing in the middle of the living room, looking lost in his own home, arms still wrapped around himself. Blaine realized he hadn't said anything since he had followed Kurt inside.</p><p class="western">"You have a lovely house," Blaine said, because it was true. "It's cozy."</p><p class="western">Kurt remained silent, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his eyes avoiding Blaine, still so full of fear and hurt…</p><p class="western">"Kurt," Blaine took a chance, and cautiously stepped closer. "Look, I… I have no idea what's going on, but… we can talk about it, if that's what you need. I can stay for as long as you need me…" Blaine glanced at him, and frowned as he watched Kurt tighten his arms around himself, as if all he wanted to do was become invisible. "Or I can go. If that's what you'd rather. I'll just g–"</p><p class="western">"No!" Kurt's voice seemed to echo in the living room, his blue eyes suddenly wide and fixed on Blaine. "No, please. No, I…"</p><p class="western">Blaine could tell it was hard for Kurt to say what he wanted, to admit that he needed something, so he decided to make it easier for him. He slowly approached Kurt, giving him all the time in the world to stop him, and when Kurt had shown no signs of wanting him to back off, he pulled him gently into his arms.</p><p class="western">Kurt's hand closed in fists on his back, his shirt clenched between his fingers. He buried his face into Blaine's neck, as if that was the only place in the world where he could ever be completely safe, and tried to tug him even closer, even though they were already as close as was physically possible.</p><p class="western">Nothing more happened for a while. Blaine couldn't tell if it had been only a few minutes, or an hour, because somehow time didn't make sense when Kurt Hummel was holding him, as if Blaine's arms were all the shelter he could've ever wished for. Blaine silently rubbed his back or squeezed him whenever he felt Kurt becoming tense again. It felt as if he was fighting; fighting against something Blaine couldn't see, couldn't understand…</p><p class="western">It was Blaine who broke the silence, and only because he knew that holding Kurt – even if it felt wonderful – wouldn't solve anything. Kurt was still hurting, and if he wanted to help him, he needed to try something else.</p><p class="western">"Hey," he whispered, his hand coming up to cup Kurt's cheek and make him look at him. Kurt reluctantly pulled away from where he had been resting on his neck. "We can talk, we can… what do you need, Kurt?"</p><p class="western">Kurt's eyes bored into his, big, blue, bright, and so beautiful they took Blaine's breath away. His lips parted, just slightly, and a tiny sigh escaped between them. He looked pale, tired and lost, and Blaine wanted to grab his hand and guide him out of the darkness to wherever he would feel safe again.</p><p class="western">"Why are you doing this?" Kurt asked in a low voice. "Why are you even here?"</p><p class="western">"What do you mean?" Blaine frowned, confused.</p><p class="western">"I've been nothing but an asshole to you. I've said things that I… and I've treated you like…" Kurt stopped, swallowed, shook his head and closed his eyes. "You should go. You should leave. I shouldn't have… I'm not…"</p><p class="western">"Kurt," Blaine interrupted, his voice soft as velvet. "Don't. Just don't. I'm not going anywhere."</p><p class="western">"Why not?" Kurt didn't seem to understand, as if he couldn't believe someone would actually <em>want </em>to stay with him.</p><p class="western">"Because I care," Blaine said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I care, and I'm not leaving you. I'm here to help, I'm here to…"</p><p class="western">Kurt moved forward, capturing Blaine's mouth in an urgent kiss. Caught by surprise, Blaine let out a quick gasp, and Kurt pushed his tongue inside, desperate, hot and smooth, eliciting an unexpected moan from Blaine. Blaine's hands moved up to Kurt's shoulders, suddenly needing something to hold on to.</p><p class="western">Even when he felt like he was floating, even when he was in a daze as Kurt's lips moved on his, Blaine knew exactly what was happening. It was as if a part of his brain was entirely conscious of the electricity in the room, of how the air had gotten thicker, of how Kurt's fingers were digging into his sides, trying to melt their bodies together. Blaine knew what was going to happen if he didn't stop kissing Kurt right now. He just <em>knew</em>.</p><p class="western">He remembered how he'd felt after Josh, so dirty and worthless. He had regretted falling into something he'd made up in his head, for believing something that wasn't real. He knew that if he didn't stop Kurt now, they would end up doing the same, and yet… he wasn't worried. He wasn't nervous. Something was pulling him towards Kurt, something he couldn't explain.</p><p class="western">He should've felt like a hypocrite, because it hadn't even been a month since he'd told himself he couldn't have casual sex, when he had told Josh that it wasn't who he was… but now, with Kurt panting into his mouth and his hands so firmly against him, he wanted to give his body to him. He was sure nothing would be different – Josh hadn't wanted anything to do with Blaine after he was done with him, so why would Kurt? – but he couldn't stop himself. Not now.</p><p class="western">Maybe Kurt was the one falling apart, needing comfort, but Blaine needed him, too, in a way he couldn't even begin to comprehend.</p><p class="western">Kurt was drowning. He was drowning in their kiss and he didn't give a damn. He just wanted the kiss to never end, but Blaine pulled away, keeping their foreheads together, their lips brushing air between them as they gasped to get some into their lungs. Kurt's fingers curled even tighter in Blaine's clothes.</p><p class="western">"Blaine…"</p><p class="western">"What do you need?" Blaine asked, breathless. "Just tell me, Kurt, tell me…"</p><p class="western">"You," Kurt blurted, his eyes so big, so needy, so desperate.</p><p class="western">Blaine swallowed. There would be no turning back. He would have to deal with the consequences. It took him less than a heartbeat to make his decision. "Okay."</p><hr/><p class="western">Kurt guided him upstairs, and Blaine silently followed, very aware of his heart pounding wildly in his chest, aware of the creaking of the third step, aware of Kurt's hand clasping his, aware of the sunlight through the curtains. It felt strange, doing this in the middle of the day, when everyone was going about their daily business. He wouldn't have a walk of shame in the middle of the night, slipping out of bed and sneaking out of the house unnoticed, protected by the darkness. He would have to leave the house when the light was still bright outside, when children were playing in the streets, when people were driving back home after work. Everyone would see him leave, and everyone would know he was the guy who had been in Kurt Hummel's bed, the guy who'd been a quick comfort-fuck.</p><p class="western">He felt a lump in his throat, but he ignored it. He wanted this. In some strange, twisted, incomprehensible way, he wanted this. Maybe it was his way of taking control of his body, of stopping himself from being scared of living a little, like Josh had accused him of. Maybe he was simply tired of being alone. Maybe he was tired of seeing sex as something so important, so sacred.</p><p class="western">His stomach churned inside of him.</p><p class="western">The upstairs of the house looked even smaller. There was just a bathroom and a bedroom up there. Kurt's bedroom. His bed was big, bigger than Blaine's, and covered in throw pillows. Everything was decorated in shades of red combined with white, and for a moment, Blaine felt as if he had stepped into a Valentine's Day card. Only the hearts were missing. Blaine hesitated for a second… no. It wasn't about sweetness, and it wasn't about love. It was about… it was about sex.</p><p class="western">And he was going to enjoy it.</p><p class="western">Kurt stopped in the middle of the room. His hands cupped Blaine's face, a lot more tenderly than Blaine had expected, and his eyes (so incredibly blue, it was hypnotizing) were once again gazing in his, and Blaine couldn't look away. It was as if he was under some spell.</p><p class="western">"You're shaking…" Kurt whispered, as he stroked his cheekbones with his thumbs.</p><p class="western">He was. Blaine could feel the tremors all over his body, but he knew they weren't about fear, or regret. It was desire making him shake. Desire so strong and pure that it could barely be contained under his skin, pushing to go out, trying to find a way to escape.</p><p class="western">Blaine wasn't sure he had ever felt this much before.</p><p class="western">"I'm okay," he assured him, his lips curving slightly into a smile. "Really."</p><p class="western">Kurt leaned in, brushed a kiss to Blaine's jaw and then moved down to his neck, teeth scraping the skin there, tearing another moan out of Blaine, before stepping back to take another look at him. "I can be… do you need me to be gentle?"</p><p class="western">Blaine's breath hitched in his throat. "No. No… I… fuck me as hard as you need to, Kurt."</p><p class="western">Flames. Those were flames in Kurt's eyes, and the blue in them was suddenly gone, replaced by a dark <em>want </em>that made the blood in Blaine's veins boil.</p><p class="western">They undressed quickly, there's nothing ceremoniously about it, no stopping to kiss every inch of the other's skin, no time to whisper praises of the other's beauty, no time to worry about where their clothes landed. Blaine was still unbuttoning his pants when Kurt was already naked, pushing the decorative pillows on his bed to the floor, and yanking the covers and sheets back, folding them without much care at the end of the mattress.</p><p class="western"><em>Courage</em>. Blaine took a deep breath and walked to Kurt, sliding his arms around him and turning him so they were facing each other, and just watched him, for only a second, before closing the distance to kiss him once more. Only this time he didn't stop at his mouth. He let his lips trail down, he nibbled on the curve of his neck, and on a perfect collarbone, and he licked one of Kurt's perfectly pink nipples until it was a slick peak and the only sound filling the room were Kurt's breathy whimpers.</p><p class="western">Kurt made him back away until Blaine's legs hit the edge of the bed, and then Kurt's hands were on his chest, pushing him until Blaine fell on the mattress, so terribly conscious of his own nakedness as Kurt looked down at him. Kurt straddled him, keeping their hips at a safe distance, and his gaze was so hungry that Blaine forgot how to breathe for a moment. He carefully took Blaine's glasses off and put them down on the bedside table.</p><p class="western">The skin on Kurt's back was insanely smooth when Blaine pressed a hand against it, feeling how the muscles shifted under his fingers as Kurt lowered himself to kiss Blaine once again, open mouthed and deeper, their tongues meeting halfway and battling for dominance until Kurt's wrapped around Blaine's, pulling it into his own mouth to suck on it, causing Blaine to thrust up as he moaned, their hard cocks brushing teasingly between them.</p><p class="western">"You're okay with me topping?" Kurt asked as he ran his fingers through the patch of hair on Blaine's chest, before letting one of his fingernails catch on one of his nipples.</p><p class="western">Blaine hissed. "<em>So </em>okay…"</p><p class="western">The smirk that appeared on Kurt's face was reminiscent of the ones Blaine had hated so much at first, but completely different at the same time. This one was flirty, warm, playful, and Blaine leaned up to kiss it away.</p><p class="western">Kurt stood up, his body suddenly too far for Blaine's grabby hands. "No… come back…"</p><p class="western">Kurt chuckled and Blaine wished he could record the sound, play it again a thousand times, use it as his alarm every morning. "Don't be impatient, I just need to get things…"</p><p class="western">Blaine watched as Kurt opened the top drawer of his bedside table, and scooted up on the bed, until he was lying on the middle of it. Kurt dropped a condom and bottle of lube on the mattress next to Blaine, and then climbed on top of him purposefully, lips searching for another kiss.</p><p class="western">Distracted by the slide of their wet tongues together, Blaine gasped in surprise when Kurt's fingers closed around him, stroking lazily a couple of times, making it impossible for Blaine not to buck up into Kurt's loose fist, looking for more.</p><p class="western">"Would you get on your hands and knees for me?" Kurt whispered right into Blaine's ear, sending a delicious shiver down his spine.</p><p class="western">Blaine nodded jerkily and hurried to oblige. He usually preferred being on his back, facing the other person. Being like this felt like too much exposure, like there was no connection at all… but somehow, now it sent a thrill all over him, and he gripped the headboard tightly, tilting his ass up, making Kurt groan at the sight. Blaine couldn't remember ever being as bold as this…</p><p class="western">"I was so right," Kurt muttered as he dropped a kiss to the small of Blaine's back. "So right when I told you this ass was meant to be fucked… look at you… Blaine, you're perfect."</p><p class="western">Blaine squirmed, not used to the way Kurt talked to him, to the way he made him feel. "Kurt…"</p><p class="western">"Ssh, it's alright," Kurt coated his fingers throughly. "You look so good, Blaine…"</p><p class="western">The first finger pressed against his entrance and Blaine forced himself to relax, as he breathed through his nose. It always felt so foreign, letting someone touch him like this, but something about the way Kurt was doing it, gentler than Blaine had expected even when he had given him permission to be rough, made it better than any of the other times Blaine had done this.</p><p class="western">Soon, Kurt was able to push a second finger in, followed by a third. He stretched Blaine carefully, teasing his prostate without giving him exactly what Blaine begged for, biting the firm skin of Blaine's asscheeks and soothing it with his tongue, distracting him, arousing him, perfectly.</p><p class="western">Blaine had screwed his eyes shut, but when he heard the condom wrapper tearing open, he looked back over his shoulder to see Kurt rolling it on him, stroking himself a couple of times as he slicked his cock with a generous amount of lube. Blaine bit his lip and parted his legs a little wider, watching as Kurt shifted closer and lined up, ready to push inside…</p><p class="western">It was the best kind of ache. Blaine felt immediately full, Kurt was so big inside of him. He was buried completely and holding on to Blaine's sides as he breathed deeply. And then he pulled out almost all the way, before thrusting back in, and Blaine wailed. All traces of gentleness disappeared as Kurt took him up on his word, fucking into Blaine hard and fast, fingers digging into his hips, probably leaving bruises that Blaine would be looking at all week.</p><p class="western">At first it was paralyzing, how good it felt. Blaine's mouth was open, his jaw slack, and his eyes closed, and all he could do was take it, moaning every time Kurt pushed into him. But then his body wanted more, and Blaine couldn't understand how it could possibly be <em>more</em>, when this felt like everything, like so much already, and he started pushing back, bracing himself with his tight grip on the headboard, the muscles of his arms and legs straining as he pushed himself back, trying to get Kurt impossibly deeper, feeling him <em>everywhere</em>, he could feel him <em>everywhere</em>, it was so much, so good, so <em>full</em>…</p><p class="western">Kurt leaned over his back, wrapping his arms around his chest, to kiss the back of his neck, and the new angle made Blaine cry out in pleasure and move his hips back a little faster. Kurt's thrusts became shorter, faster, harder, and they were both so close, they could feel it…</p><p class="western">"K-Kurt," Blaine whined, his head falling forward, his breath going quicker, his moans growing more and more desperate.</p><p class="western">Kurt moved one of his hands down to stroke Blaine, so hot and hard under his fingers, and Blaine was dizzy, unable to decide if he wanted to push back or forward more, if he needed Kurt's cock filling him so right, or Kurt's hand on him trying to fist his orgasm out of him more.</p><p class="western">It turned out he didn't have to decide, there was no time for that. Kurt started pulsing inside of him, coming deep inside of him, as a high-pitched moan escaped from his lips, pressed to Blaine's shoulderblades. And that was enough, exactly what he needed, and with one last stroke, Blaine came as Kurt fucked him through his orgasm. His knuckles white from holding onto the headboard, completely sure he had gone blind and deaf for a moment, because everything disappeared, nothing existed but the pleasure buzzing through his body, making every inch of him tingle with it.</p><p class="western">Blaine's knees finally gave out, and they both collapsed, panting hard. Blaine's face was buried on Kurt's pillow, and even if he'd been suffocating he wouldn't have been able to move. He was completely spent, boneless.</p><p class="western">He finally rolled to the side, leaving room for Kurt to drop on the bed, and once again he kept his eyes closed. He knew that as soon as he was able to think and breathe, he would need to leave, and his throat was already tightening, wishing things were different, but still not regretting it…</p><p class="western">He'd never felt this good in his life, but he still wanted to cry.</p><p class="western">Kurt's fingers brushed his ribs gently and Blaine's eyes snapped open. Kurt was smiling lazily, eyes overwhelmingly blue once more, and staring right into Blaine's. "Hey."</p><p class="western">"Hey," Blaine croaked, voice tired and mouth dry after moaning so much.</p><p class="western">"You're too far away," Kurt mumbled, and crooked a finger at him, beckoning him closer. "Come here."</p><p class="western">Blaine frowned, confused. "I… you…"</p><p class="western">Kurt's smile fell. "Oh. Well. You can leave if you want. I just…"</p><p class="western">"I thought you'd want me to leave…" Blaine licked his lips, and tentatively reached to touch Kurt's shoulder. "Was I wrong?"</p><p class="western">The grin curving Kurt's mouth was a little sad. "You really think I'm a complete asshole, don't you?"</p><p class="western">"Kurt," Blaine scooted closer, his backside already throbbing painfully, but he ignored it. "You think I would've done this if I thought you're an asshole?"</p><p class="western">Kurt's fingers found their way into Blaine's hair, and he tried to loose the gel to free the curls that had survived until now. "I don't blame you."</p><p class="western">Blaine sighed and kissed him, chaste and sweet. "I think you want to make people <em>believe </em>that you're an asshole, but I know you're not, even if you did trick me into believing it at the beginning…"</p><p class="western">They stayed silent, simply gazing into each other's eyes for a moment, as their hearts went back to their normal pace and their chests stopped heaving. Blaine winced when he tried to shift to get more comfortable, and Kurt's hand flew to the small of his back, rubbing there comfortably.</p><p class="western">"Are you okay?" He asked, a little worried.</p><p class="western">"I'm great," Blaine reassured him. His hazel eyes searched deeper into his blue ones, and his hand moved to the back of Kurt's head to stroke the hairs at the nape of his neck. "How are <em>you</em>?"</p><p class="western">Kurt sighed, and he only hesitated for a moment before snuggling against Blaine's chest. "You're not letting <em>that </em>go, are you?"</p><p class="western">"Kurt," Blaine said gently, smiling down at him. "You don't have to tell me anything, and I told you I'd help in any way I can, but… I have to say, I'm a little worried."</p><p class="western">Kurt closed his eyes and nodded very slowly. "Okay. Okay. But… can we… can we just stay like this for a little longer? I'll tell you everything, I just… I need some time."</p><p class="western">Blaine wrapped his arms around him, pulled him closer, kissed his forehead. "Of course." Neither had ever felt as safe as they felt in that moment.</p><hr/><p class="western">It didn't take very long until they had fallen asleep, wrapped in each other and the comfortable silence they had built between them.</p><p class="western">When Blaine woke up, he knew they hadn't actually slept for long - the sun was still coming in through the window, bright, warming up the room. He had probably only dozed off for a few minutes, but that had been enough for Kurt to slip out of bed unnoticed.</p><p class="western">Blaine bit his lip, wondering where Kurt was, and if he had maybe ran out of the room at his first opportunity, if he had changed his mind and wanted Blaine gone, if...</p><p class="western">Kurt entered the room, hair damp and brushed off his forehead, skin slightly pink from being under the shower spray, looking fresh and breathtakingly beautiful.</p><p class="western">"You're awake," he said with a soft smile. He was wearing only a pair of boxer briefs, and Blaine couldn't keep his eyes from roaming over all that pale skin on display.</p><p class="western">"I am," Blaine confirmed with a smile of his own.</p><p class="western">"You can take a shower too, if you want," Kurt offered, and then seemed a bit uncertain. "I can make coffee in the meantime, and we can talk, if... if you still want to?"</p><p class="western">"I want to," Blaine stood up, fighting the urge to cover himself with his hands or tugging at the sheets to cover his naked body. He knew he was blushing, but he didn't want to look like an embarrassed virgin in front of Kurt.</p><p class="western">"I left clean towels for you," Kurt said. "You can use whatever you want."</p><p class="western">Kurt caught his wrist before Blaine could walk out of the room, turning him just enough so he could press their lips together, and they both kept their eyes open, eyelashes fluttering as they looked at each other in a way that made their insides twirl.</p><p class="western">Once he was in the shower, Blaine took a moment to simply stand under the water, letting it hit his back, relaxing his muscles. He rested his forehead against the cold tiles, and tried not to think. It wasn't time to think, yet, not when Kurt needed him, when he was about to tell him something that was clearly important. He would think about himself later, when he was back home, when he could deal with his thoughts and his feelings alone.</p><p class="western">There was an assortment of shampoos and conditioners, so many shower gels and creams that Blaine had no idea what they were for. He chose a random bottle of shampoo and washed his hair, immediately smiling when he could smell Kurt, and felt Kurt all around him.</p><p class="western">He spent a few more minutes in there, washing the dried come off his stomach, and admiring the purple finger-shaped bruises already forming on his hipbones, before he stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself in one of the towels that Kurt had left for him.</p><p class="western">He walked out of the bathroom with his hair a mess of curls, but Blaine very well knew that it was hopeless without some gel. He kept the towel around his waist and went back into the bedroom to find his clothes.</p><p class="western">Kurt was sitting on the bed, still in his underwear, though he had put on an undershirt, too. There were two cups of coffee on the bedside table, and their comforting scent was already filling the room.</p><p class="western">With his back to Kurt, Blaine let the towel fall and stepped into his boxers, blushing furiously. He would never be the kind of guy who could walk around naked in front of a man, even if they had just slept together. There was something extremely vulnerable about standing completely bare in front of someone when their bodies weren't touching. Blaine wasn't a fan of being vulnerable...</p><p class="western">"Come on, your coffee's going to go cold," Kurt said softly from the bed.</p><p class="western">Blaine climbed back on the left side. Kurt had changed the sheets and folded the cover a little more neatly. Blaine wasn't sure how comfortable Kurt would be near him now, if he was allowed to touch him in any way or not, so he leaned against the pillows, sitting with his legs curled under himself, the way he always did when he was getting ready to start a new book he'd been dying to read for a while.</p><p class="western">Kurt handed him one of the cups of coffee, as his eyes (now an impressive shade of green) fixed on his hair. Blaine tried to flatten it self-consciously.</p><p class="western">"No, no," Kurt grabbed his hand to stop him, and then carefully ran his fingers through his damp curls. "I like it. You have beautiful hair, Blaine."</p><p class="western">Blaine tried to hide his blush behind his coffee. "It's a mess..."</p><p class="western">"It doesn't mean it can't be beautiful," Kurt shrugged and gave him a smile, small and bright all at the same time.</p><p class="western">Blaine missed his fingers in his hair as soon as Kurt let his hand fall between them. He pulled his knees up to his chest, as if still trying to shield himself somehow, and took a sip of coffee, eyes still on Blaine, a bit wary.</p><p class="western">"So..." Blaine whispered.</p><p class="western">"So," Kurt echoed, glancing away, hands tightening around his cup. "Are you sure you want to hear about this? You don't have to, Blaine."</p><p class="western">"I want to help," Blaine insisted, smiling encouragingly. "If you want to talk about it, I'll listen."</p><p class="western">Kurt shook his head, and that air of defeat returned to him, making him seem paler in the sunlight. "I... I don't even know where to start."</p><p class="western">"Why don't you start by telling me why you were so upset?" Blaine said gently.</p><p class="western">Kurt sighed and put his cup of coffee down on the bedside table, before standing up and walking to the chair where he had put the clothes he had been wearing earlier, grabbing his jeans and searching in its pockets until he found what he was looking for. He went back to the bed, extended a white envelope to Blaine, who took it with a frown, and resumed his position with his knees to his chest and his coffee in a tight grip between his hands.</p><p class="western">Blaine reached for his glasses before opening the envelope, extracting a single sheet of paper, and he glanced at Kurt for confirmation one last time.</p><p class="western">"Go ahead," Kurt muttered, and Blaine began to read.</p><p class="western">
  <em>Dear Kurt,</em>
</p><p class="western"><em>I miss you. I think that's the perfect way to start this letter, because… I do. I really miss you, and everyday I wish you were still here with me. For so long I've tried to contact you, to talk to you, but my emails never got a reply, and you never picked up your phone. Every time I went to Ohio, I looked for you, but I guess you didn't want to be</em> <em>found.</em></p><p class="western">
  <em>Finn gave me your house address – but please don't be mad at him. He only did it because I begged endlessly, and because he knows you could use a friend. And I'm still your friend, Kurt, I'll always be your friend.</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>I love New York, but when I'm walking around the city, nothing feels right, because you're not there with me. I've made new friends, and I've met lots of people in these past few years, but I always feel empty, because no one can replace you, there's no one who can fill the best-friend shoes quite like you. No one's as fabulous as you are, and I hope you still remember that.</em>
</p><p class="western"><em>I wanted you to know (you were the first person I wanted to tell, the only one who would ever understand what this means, and it was so sad knowing I couldn't just run to our apartment to see you) that I finally, </em>finally <em>got my very first lead on Broadway. I'm going to be Elphaba, Kurt. I don't think I still believe it – I feel like I'm going to wake up from a dream and realize I'm still singing Wicked songs with you, fantasizing about being on stage. After so many years of auditioning, of off-off-off Broadway plays, of playing characters with barely any lines… I've made it. And the most important person I want to share this with, is you.</em></p><p class="western">
  <em>That is why I'm including two tickets for my opening night, and I hope that when I go out on stage, I'll see your face in the audience. I need you to be there, Kurt.</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>I know you think dreams can't be more than just dreams. I know you gave up on them a long time ago, but I still believe in you. Every single day I wake up knowing how talented and amazing you are, and every night I go to bed praying you'll remember it too.</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>Please, think about it. It would mean a lot to me to see you here. I need you, I miss you, I love you,</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>Rachel.</em>
</p><p class="western">Blaine finished reading and looked up at Kurt, who was looking down into his coffee cup intently. "I don't understand…"</p><p class="western">"She says I gave up," Kurt muttered in a voice barely high enough for Blaine to hear him. "And she's absolutely right."</p><p class="western">"But… why?" Blaine tilted his head to the side and just managed to stop himself from scooting closer to Kurt.</p><p class="western">Kurt took a deep breath, and it was evident it took a huge effort for him to talk about this. Blaine couldn't help but feel honored that he was the person Kurt was opening up to. "When I was a senior in high school, I applied to NYADA. I wanted to be a performer, I wanted to be on a Broadway stage… but I didn't get in. Rachel did, and she left, she went to New York and I stayed here, working for my dad. But then he somehow convinced me to go to New York anyway, to follow my dreams, and I did. I moved to New York, moved in with Rachel, and I started applying to internships and a couple more schools for the second semester…"</p><p class="western">Kurt paused, took a sip of coffee, avoided Blaine's eyes. Blaine ached to reach for his hand.</p><p class="western">"Nothing worked. I didn't get any of the internships and I didn't get into the other schools," Kurt swallowed and Blaine knew he was holding back tears. "So after a few months of failing at everything, I came back to Ohio."</p><p class="western">"Kurt…"</p><p class="western">"I wasn't a good enough performer to be on Broadway, and I wasn't good enough in fashion to get an internship, either," Kurt rolled his eyes and a few tears escaped down his cheeks. He laughed bitterly. "I mean, what was I <em>thinking</em>? Going to New York, a city so full of talented people, thinking I could make it? I was delusional…"</p><p class="western">"Kurt, don't…"</p><p class="western">"I was, Blaine!" Kurt exploded, the tears now furiously falling down his face. He wiped them away carelessly. "For years I was convinced I was better than anyone else in this town, than the idiots pushing me around in school, and it turns out, I wasn't! The only thing I've ever wanted was to leave Lima and never look back, and here I still am! I had to come back because I couldn't stand facing more rejection, not in the one place I thought I would be accepted, in the one place I was supposed to fit in! New York was my dream and my haven while I survived high school, and I was wrong."</p><p class="western">"There's still time, Kurt," Blaine hurried to say, this time shifting closer, putting his mug down to hold one of Kurt's hands on his own. "There's always time, you could…"</p><p class="western">"No. there's no more time. I'm done wasting my time with silly, naïve dreams, Blaine. I'm twenty eight, I'm not a kid anymore…" Kurt looked down, hugged his knees closer, squeezed Blaine's hand in his. "I have a job, a house and bills to pay."</p><p class="western">"Can you honestly tell me that this is how you want to spend the rest of your days? Kurt… you're still young," Blaine stroked his hair, cupped his cheek, and forced him to look at him. "You can still try. If you don't try…"</p><p class="western">"If I don't try, there's no more disappointment," Kurt interrupted in a firm, hash tone. "Okay, maybe I hate my life, maybe I need to find a reason to actually get up every morning and it's getting harder and harder every day, but life isn't ever easy. Life isn't what you plan when you're a kid. Do you think I wanted to work in <em>construction</em>? No, of course not. But I had a chance and I had to take it, because I couldn't live with my parents anymore. It isn't what I want, it'll never be what I want, but… Blaine, dreams change, dreams die…"</p><p class="western">Blaine could feel a lump forming in his throat. He'd had it rough, he'd been lonely… but the pain in Kurt's words, in Kurt's face… it was completely heartbreaking. "Then what's your dream now?"</p><p class="western">"I don't have one," Kurt answered. "They're useless. They're pointless. They only make reality feel like a temporary thing, but then nothing changes, and you only feel worse about yourself…"</p><p class="western">"I wish you didn't feel like that," Blaine said sadly, moving closer, not giving a damn about precaution, and just snuggling against Kurt's side. "I'm not saying life isn't hard… but it isn't as awful as you make it sound."</p><p class="western">Kurt didn't reply, and Blaine sighed. He just dropped his head on Kurt's shoulder, hoping his warmth would be somehow comforting, but knowing it wasn't enough.</p><p class="western">"How did you end up with this job?" He asked after a couple of minutes.</p><p class="western">"It sort of fell on my lap," Kurt muttered, one of his arms moving to wrap around Blaine, as he put his own coffee cup on the nightstand. "One of my dad's neighbors needed help fixing a few things in her house. She was an old lady, and she had always been decent to me, so I offered. I needed the money, anyway. Then she recommended me to a friend… and then another… and it sort of started like that. I learned how to do more complicated things and I got a few more jobs…"</p><p class="western">Blaine cleared his throat. He wasn't sure he was allowed to bring this up, but he wanted to know… "Your dad… he told me you don't usually work for people who treat you right…"</p><p class="western">"Oh, yeah. I knew it would be a bad idea for you to be alone with him," Kurt sighed tiredly. "Well, I'm a gay construction worker in Ohio. I dress in Marc Jacobs and Alexander McQueen. Of course they don't think I'm normal."</p><p class="western">"You said you only dress like that when you go to your parents' place and at your own house," Blaine pointed out.</p><p class="western">"Yeah. After a while, I realized it was easier being… less <em>me</em>. It kept me out of trouble, and it was hard enough getting steady jobs without people judging me as soon as they saw me. So I decided to keep it simple."</p><p class="western">Kurt's voice was flat, indifferent, but Blaine could still hear the hurt behind it. Kurt had had to give up everything: his dreams, the city he loved, even who he <em>was</em>. Blaine couldn't imagine how that must've felt to him. No wonder he was so bitter and disappointed. What kind of life was he living?</p><p class="western">Without even giving it a second thought, Blaine pushed Kurt down until he was lying on his back, and moved to lie on top of him, covering him with his body, and lacing their fingers together above Kurt's head. He kissed him, sweet and slow, until he felt Kurt relaxing under him.</p><p class="western">"I'm sorry," Blaine whispered against his lips. "I wish I could take away all of your sadness and make it all better."</p><p class="western">Kurt brought one of Blaine's hands to his mouth and softly kissed his knuckles. "You're the only person who's gotten this close to me in years. You're already making it better by listening."</p><p class="western">As Blaine moved forward for another kiss, he thought it still wasn't enough. He wanted to do more than listen.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">It was almost dark outside by the time they drove back to the book store so Blaine could get his car. Their hair was damp from the second shower they'd both had to take and Blaine flinched uncomfortably when he got into the truck, thinking it had been <em>so </em>worth it.</p><p class="western">The drive was tranquil on the way back, underscored with soft music playing from the radio. Blaine hummed under his breath as Kurt drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, a lot more relaxed than he had been earlier. He was dressed in his nice clothes, with a light scarf around his neck to hide the evidence of his afternoon with Blaine, since he was going from there to dinner with his family.</p><p class="western">When they arrived at the bookshop, Kurt cut the engine before turning to face him.</p><p class="western">"Thank you for today," he said softly, almost bashfully. "I'm sorry I didn't get a lot of work done here. I promise I'll…"</p><p class="western">"Hey," Blaine smiled, and reached for Kurt's hand to place a quick kiss on his palm. "I really don't care. It's not like it was a total waste of time, right?"</p><p class="western">Kurt grinned and then bit his lips to hide it. "Right…"</p><p class="western">They moved at the same time, mouths searching, Kurt's hand going to the back of Blaine's neck to pull him in, Blaine's finding a perfect place to rest on Kurt's side. Their lips slid together for a little while, soft and teasing, until they remembered they were sitting in plain view in a truck in Lima.</p><p class="western">"I guess I'll see you…" Kurt muttered, breathless.</p><p class="western">"Yeah…" Blaine interrupted, eyes fixed on his lips, dying to press one more kiss to them.</p><p class="western">"Oh, fuck it," Kurt mumbled, and leaned to kiss Blaine again.</p><p class="western">"You're… going… to be late… for dinner…" Blaine managed to say whenever their mouths shifted enough for him to get the words out.</p><p class="western">"Don't care," Kurt groaned, pushing his tongue against Blaine's. "God, Blaine, I…"</p><p class="western">A cellphone rang and they both jumped apart as if they had been caught in the act. Laughing nervously, Kurt fished his phone out of his pocket while Blaine tried to fix his hair, even though it was so completely wrecked, it seemed pointless.</p><p class="western">"Hi… yeah, hi, Dad. I'm on my way right now…" Kurt said into the phone, turning to look at Blaine with dark eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine. No, no, I'm not breathing funny. I'm just driving. Sure. Sure I can pick some dessert up… No, don't worry. I'll be there soon. Love you, too."</p><p class="western">Kurt slipped his phone back into his pocket as Blaine grabbed his satchel.</p><p class="western">"I think that's my cue to go," Blaine smiled at him and squeezed his hand. If he kissed him again, he would never leave. "Have a nice dinner."</p><p class="western">"Thanks," Kurt answered. He looked into Blaine's eyes meaningfully. "For everything."</p><p class="western">"Any time," he squeezed his hand once again, and then exited the truck. He watched Kurt as he drove away, standing by his own car, only climbing into it when he couldn't see him anymore.</p><p class="western">During the long, silent drive back to his apartment, Blaine had a lot of time to think.</p><hr/><p class="western">Images of Kurt fucking him kept running through Blaine's head, keeping him awake and restless. Kurt's lips on his, Kurt's hands on his hips, Kurt's pale skin against his, Kurt's sheets tangled around his legs, Kurt, Kurt, <em>Kurt</em>…</p><p class="western">It was amazing how easily Kurt had crawled under his skin, make a nest there, as if he was planning to stay for a very long time. It was unsettling and exciting at the same time. Blaine wasn't sure if he was suited for someone as extraordinary as Kurt, when he was so average. Blaine was the kind of guy who stumbled over his own feet when he walked down the street. Kurt walked with his head high, as if he owned the street, with his eyes glaring, and his boots heavy on the asfalt, making people turn to stare at him. No one would pain attention to Blaine even if he was standing on a rooftop, screaming his lungs out. Kurt only needed to step into a room to stop people in their tracks. Blaine was invisible; Kurt was a force of nature.</p><p class="western">Blaine knew instinctively, without a second thought, that Kurt meant heartbreak. If he allowed himself to fall in love with Kurt, there was only pain ahead for him.</p><p class="western">Blaine tossed in his bed, trying to get comfortable. Maybe he was being unfair. Yes, Kurt was the most frustratingly complicated man Blaine had ever met, but that didn't mean he was <em>bad</em>. In fact, Blaine knew that Kurt was just a wounded soul trying to survive in a difficult world full of pain, regret, and broken hopes. He wasn't naïve or credulous like Blaine could be. Life had hardened him, but deep down inside, he was just as vulnerable and lonely as Blaine was.</p><p class="western">Stronger, though. He was so much stronger than Blaine. Blaine would've never been able to fight for survival like Kurt did every single day. Blaine would've cracked under that pressure within a week. Kurt was braver.</p><p class="western">Could someone like Kurt be 'fixed'? Could Blaine make him see the beauty in life again? Could Blaine make him dream again? Kurt was so terribly stubborn and defensive, but Blaine felt like he needed to try.</p><p class="western">No one should be as lonely, desperate, and broken as Kurt was.</p><hr/><p class="western">Blaine certainly wasn't expecting things to be like this when they met again. He hadn't imagined Kurt walking into the book store with a bouquet of roses, wearing a tuxedo, with a horse-drawn carriage ready to take them on a romantic ride around Lima, but… this? He expected more than this.</p><p class="western">Blaine arrived at the store first, put his satchel down on the armchair and his laptop on the small table next to it, as he usually did. He set down the cup holder with the two Lima Bean cups, hoping they would stay warm until Kurt got there. He turned his computer on and grabbed his notepad from his bag, flipping the pages until he found the list he was looking for: several things were underlined and checked off – the list of things that remained to be done was getting shorter and shorter every day.</p><p class="western">He was checking his emails when Kurt walked in, dressed in his usual jeans and clinging t-shirt, toolbelt hanging around his hips and his boots not making a sound on the still-carpeted floor. He took his Wayfarers off, and Blaine immediately smiled at him, bright and a little eager.</p><p class="western">Kurt only allowed his lips to curl up in a really lame attempt at a smile. "Good morning."</p><p class="western">"Hey," Blaine said, as his own smile faltered. "I… bought you coffee."</p><p class="western">"Thanks," Kurt answered simply, putting his tool box and bag down against the opposite wall.</p><p class="western">Blaine stood to bring the coffee to him. "It's still warm."</p><p class="western">Kurt tried to smile again as he accepted it. He failed. "There's a lot to do today, so I 'd better…" he muttered after a quick sip, gesturing around him vaguely.</p><p class="western">Blaine nodded clumsily, feeling extremely confused, and then retreated to the safe armchair, to the comfort of his own coffee.</p><p class="western">What the hell was going on?</p><p class="western"><em>It was just a fuck. He needed a way to relieve the tension and you were just convenient. It didn't mean anything to him. He doesn't care about you. You're not good enough. You're not attractive enough. You're bad in bed. You were too loud. You are just a stupid nerd. He lied. You made it all up in your head. He must have laughed at you after you were gone. Who could ever want you? Why would you think he'd like you? When has anyone really liked you? Why would someone like Kurt care about someone like you? Ugly, ugly, ugly, not wanted, not enough, not sexy,</em> <em>ugly…</em></p><p class="western">Blaine felt like he couldn't breathe. His lungs wouldn't fill with air anymore. There was something heavy, toxic, making his chest ache, his eyes water, his lower lip tremble, forming a lump in his throat…</p><p class="western">
  <em>Stupid. Hopeless. Needy. Not wanted. Not enough. Not sexy. Ugly.</em>
</p><p class="western"><em>Man up. Of course he doesn't want you. Just look at you. One second of indifference and you're a mess. Pathetic. You deserve this. Man </em>up<em>.</em></p><p class="western">
  <em>Not enough.</em>
</p><p class="western">
  <em>Ugly.</em>
</p><p class="western">Blaine stared intently at the screen of his computer, without really seeing anything. Everything was blurry through his threatening tears, nothing made any sense. But he kept staring at it, because looking at Kurt just wasn't possible. He just couldn't do it. He needed a few minutes to hide his anguish behind a mask.</p><p class="western">
  <em>Stupid. Clingy. It was just a fuck.</em>
</p><p class="western">Suddenly, a surprisingly soft hand cupped his cheek and Blaine was forced to look up, a little startled.</p><p class="western">Kurt was touching him so carefully, as if he was afraid he'd break. His eyes were a whole universe of colors, fixed on Blaine's, and his lips were slightly curved up again, but gentler. He smelled of coffee and warmth.</p><p class="western">"I'm really bad at this," Kurt confessed in a low, timid voice. Blaine swallowed. "T-this?"</p><p class="western">"This," Kurt repeated, as if that made it all clearer. "I don't know what's off limits, what I'm allowed to do, and what I'm supposed to say. But… please stop looking so miserable. I… I can't handle seeing you like this."</p><p class="western">
  <em>It was just a fuck…</em>
</p><p class="western">Blaine couldn't help the fear clutching his heart like an iron hand, saying those words over and over, whispering them in his ear…</p><p class="western">Kurt's face darkened and the ghost of his smile vanished, making Blaine realize he must have said the words out loud. Kurt pulled away sharply, as if he'd been burnt, leaving Blaine creaving the touch of his fingers against his skin.</p><p class="western">"That's all it was?" Kurt asked, trying to sound nonchalant, already rebuilding his walls around him, recoiling from him, pushing him away.</p><p class="western">"You tell me," Blaine muttered, standing up to get closer to Kurt. "Why would you want anything more than that with me? I-it's okay if you just needed someone to take the edge off. I mean, it's not like I'm…"</p><p class="western">"Blaine," Kurt's eyes were hard, his face serious. "It was not just a fuck. Not for me. If that's all I wanted, I would've gotten it somewhere else. Not with you, and certainly not for a second time after I pretty much told you my whole fucking life story…"</p><p class="western">Blaine's lips were parted in a little gasp, from relief or surprise, he couldn't tell. "Okay…"</p><p class="western">"You're so infuriating sometimes," Kurt said exasperated. Then he sighed, his face going softer, as he gave up and rested their foreheads together. "I don't do stuff like this, usually, whatever this is. I really don't want to screw it up, I'm just… I'm finding it hard to give up all of the protective walls I've built for myself. They've been protecting me for too long, and I…"</p><p class="western">"I get it," Blaine interrupted, taking his turn to cup Kurt's cheek this time. "I won't pressure you into doing anything you don't want to do. As long as you know you can be yourself with me and come to me to talk whenever you need to, that's more than enough. You can… you can set the pace. For whatever <em>this </em>is."</p><p class="western">Kurt let out a little incredulous laugh. "What the hell are we even doing?"</p><p class="western">Blaine's lips shifted to form a slow smile. "I have no idea."</p><p class="western">"Well," Kurt's eyes were boring into his. Blaine was sure he'd fall into them and he wouldn't ever be able to find his way back, and the thought didn't disturb him at all. "I have no idea either."</p><p class="western">"Do you care?" Blaine asked, noticing he was sounding more and more breathless with every word.</p><p class="western">"Not even a little bit," Kurt replied, before moving forward the remaining few inches until his mouth could capture Blaine's.</p><p class="western">They kissed hungrily, clinging to each other's clothes and struggling to breathe. It was obvious both of them had been thinking about the other since they had last done it, and they had been waiting for their chance to kiss again.</p><p class="western">Kurt pulled away first, with a quick glance towards the window, as if he was expecting half of Lima's population to be staring at them through the glass. He leaned in for a little peck and then took a step back, clearing his throat.</p><p class="western">"I'd better go back to work," he said. Blaine was happy to hear his voice was a little hoarse with want. "I have a wall to knock down."</p><p class="western">"Of course," Blaine answered, and <em>oh</em>, he didn't sound much better…</p><p class="western">Kurt walked to the opposite side of the room to grab the tools he'd need, Blaine's eyes drawn to the way his hips swayed mesmerizingly and the perfect curve of his ass.</p><p class="western">It was really noisy for a while, as Kurt worked (though not as violently as before they'd kissed for the first time. This time he was just doing his job – last time he'd been trying to pulverize his misery), and Blaine finished his coffee as he replied to a few emails and updated his lists. He couldn't focus properly, hyperaware of the man not even fifteen feet away from him. He could hear him, smell him, almost <em>feel </em>him…</p><p class="western">It wasn't until one of Kurt's breaks to gather his breath and have some water that Blaine spoke again. The question had been buzzing around his brain all morning, and he couldn't keep it to himself any longer.</p><p class="western">"Kurt?" He said softly.</p><p class="western">Kurt glanced at him over his bottle of water, as his throat worked to swallow the clear liquid, with his eyebrows raised in question. "Mm?"</p><p class="western">"I'd like you ask you something," Blaine muttered, standing up and taking a few steps closer. "But you don't have to answer if you don't want to."</p><p class="western">Kurt's eyes immediately narrowed warily, probably out of habit, and Blaine almost bailed. "What is it?"</p><p class="western">"Rachel," Blaine blurted, before his courage abandoned him.</p><p class="western">Kurt seemed surprised at the mention of her name. "What about Rachel?"</p><p class="western">"What are you going to do?" Blaine looked down, and then up again, biting his lip. "You know, about the tickets she sent you. Are you going to go?"</p><p class="western">Kurt stared at him for the longest moment, and Blaine couldn't help but fidget, wishing he had kept his mouth shut, but knowing maybe a tiny little push in the right direction wouldn't be that bad. Kurt's expression was unreadable, so Blaine started wondering if he would flip out at him for daring to talk about it again. Then Kurt simply turned to put his bottle back in his bag and sighed tiredly.</p><p class="western">"There's nothing <em>to </em>do about that, Blaine," he said. "Rachel sent those tickets to her best friend. The Kurt she was best friends with died a long time ago. I'm not the person she wants anymore, and I definitely have no intention of going back to New York. So…"</p><p class="western">So there was nothing to talk about, no question to be answered, because there was no way Kurt would give in so easily. Blaine felt sad: if only Kurt would <em>believe </em>in his dreams for just <em>one more</em> <em>second</em>…</p><p class="western">Kurt went back to work, and Blaine wasn't brave enough to push him any further. Not yet, at least.</p><hr/><p class="western">It was all about sneaking kisses and simple touches every time they could. As days went by, they became more and more desperate to feel the other's skin, the other's lips. Kurt was the one who would always stop things from going too far, afraid they would be seen.</p><p class="western">"Kurt, there's no one out there…"</p><p class="western">"Until there is. We can't risk it."</p><p class="western">"No one can touch you here."</p><p class="western">"I don't live in here. And you don't want to risk your business even before you have a chance to open it."</p><p class="western">Blaine didn't know Lima as well as Kurt did, but he was starting to think that Kurt's fears and doubts were all inside his head. Yes, maybe people around here weren't very accepting, maybe they wouldn't want to see two guys making out in plain sight… but would anyone really go out of their way to hurt two adult men?</p><p class="western">Blaine's stomach churned uncomfortably and he decided he'd rather not find out.</p><p class="western">But Blaine still ached to see Kurt being completely care-free. He wanted him to relax and enjoy himself, and forget about the outside world. He just wasn't sure how to make it happen without pushing Kurt's boundaries. He'd made a promise to let Kurt call the shots, and he intended to keep it.</p><p class="western">It was a Thursday night, and they were about to leave for the day. Kurt had already put his tools in the back of his truck, and Blaine was waiting for his computer to turn off so he could put it in his satchel. Suddenly, Kurt's fingers were brushing lightly against his hand, and he looked up at him, wide-eyed.</p><p class="western">Kurt leaned in to murmur into his ear. "Would you like to stay at my place tonight?"</p><p class="western">A shiver ran down Blaine's spine, and he found himself nodding even before he could actually process the words. "I'd love to."</p><p class="western">They packed the rest of their stuff, and Blaine said he would follow Kurt in his car. Kurt gave him a quick, beautiful smile before he got in his truck, waiting for him while Blaine locked the bookshop and walked to his own vehicle.</p><p class="western">Blaine tried keeping his mind diverted as he drove, following the lights of Kurt's truck ahead of him. He listed everything still left to do in the bookshop – removing the carpet, fixing imperfections in the wooden floors, painting, installing the shelves – but his thoughts kept circling back to Kurt, to the way he'd asked him to stay at his house, the way his fingertips had ignited a flame deep down inside him.</p><p class="western">When they parked in front of Kurt's house, Blaine paused before getting out of the car, to take a deep breath. Even though he could guess what Kurt's intentions might be, he still didn't know for sure why he had invited him to stay over. What if he needed to talk about something? What if he was ready to share more about himself? Blaine couldn't let his attraction to him cloud his brain. He had to be ready for whatever Kurt needed him to be.</p><p class="western">Kurt was standing at the unlocked front door, looking at Blaine's car with a raised eyebrow, so Blaine turned the engine off and grabbed his satchel before following.</p><p class="western">"Everything alright?" Kurt asked, watching Blaine closely as he slid inside.</p><p class="western">"Yes, yes, sorry, I was…"</p><p class="western">But Blaine didn't get to finish his sentence, because suddenly Kurt was pressing him against the closed door, kissing him. His lips were hungry, demanding, insistent on Blaine's, and Blaine barely had time to react and try to kiss back before Kurt was changing the angle, deepening the kiss, trying to lick into his mouth.</p><p class="western">Blaine moaned helplessly, both out of frustration and pleasure, and Kurt pulled away with a low groan. "I've been thinking about doing that all day…"</p><p class="western">"No, no, come back…" Blaine whispered, moving one of his hands to the back of Kurt's neck to pull him back.</p><p class="western">"Wait a minute," Kurt said, looking down at himself. His clothes were a mess after working all day, and he was covered in dust from knocking the wall down. "I'm so gross."</p><p class="western">"No, you're perfect. Just kiss me some more…" Blaine whined, chasing his lips.</p><p class="western">Kurt chuckled. "Patience is a virtue, Anderson," he said, smugly.</p><p class="western">"You're such a tease," Blaine protested weakly.</p><p class="western">With another laugh, Kurt gave him one last quick peck and stepped away from Blaine's arms. "I'm going to take a shower and then we can have dinner? I'm starving."</p><p class="western">"Sure. Do you want me to cook something…?" Blaine offered, but Kurt shook his head.</p><p class="western">"No, no. I've got it. You can just grab something to drink from the fridge and watch TV or whatever," Kurt couldn't resist another quick peck. "I'll be right back."</p><p class="western">Blaine bit his lip as he watched him walk up the stairs. "I miss you already," he muttered, and then he immediately blushed as soon as he realized Kurt must have heard him, because he was smiling at him over his shoulder, half amused, half pleased.</p><p class="western">Once he could hear Kurt moving around upstairs, Blaine put his satchel down, and went to the kitchen to grab a drink. Kurt's fridge was full of healthy food, lots of vegetables, several kinds of juice, and water. Blaine thought back to how fit Kurt's naked body, how he had the right amount of muscle in all the right places. It made sense that Kurt was careful with what he ate. Blaine poured some water into a glass and then went back to the living room.</p><p class="western">He was going to sit on the couch and watch some TV until Kurt came back, but he was instantly drawn to the bookcase on the opposite wall instead. He put his water down on the coffee table, and then examined the books Kurt owned. He didn't have as many as Blaine did (probably no one else in Ohio owned as many books as he did), but they were lots of classics, and a few contemporary titles from authors Blaine was very interested in. He found Kurt's copy of <em>Catcher in the Rye </em>and pulled it out, flipping through the pages carefully. There were a lot of highlighted quotes, and that made Blaine smile. Though he wasn't one to scribble on books (he considered that to be a sacrilege, but he could forgive Kurt for it), knowing Kurt had wanted to remember something in particular from a story that had obviously touched him, sent warmth through him.</p><p class="western">The pictures displayed on the shelves caught his attention next. He recognized Kurt's father in most of them. There were a few that featured a little boy who could only be Kurt, with a beautiful woman who had the same color of hair, eyes and fair skin, and others with a teenage Kurt with a different woman and a very tall boy. He saw a few pictures that looked a lot more recent, probably taken in the last couple of years, and it broke Blaine's heart to realize that, while in the older pictures Kurt looked full of life, smiling brightly at the camera, in the newest ones his smile was forced, and the light drained from his eyes. It was the difference between a Kurt with all his hopes and dreams intact, and a Kurt who had seen them all shattered.</p><p class="western">"I should've guessed you'd be looking at my books instead of watching TV," Blaine spun around to see Kurt coming down the stairs, his hair damp and unstyled, wearing loose pajama pants, a soft, blue t-shirt, and an even softer (and so unusual – gosh, Blaine couldn't believe he was allowed to <em>see </em>him like this) smile.</p><p class="western">He was <em>so </em>beautiful.</p><p class="western">"Sorry, I couldn't resist," Blaine shrugged, apologetically, as he put <em>The Catcher in the Rye </em>back where he had found it.</p><p class="western">"As long as you weren't judging…" Kurt muttered as he walked into the kitchen, his bare feet silent as moved.</p><p class="western">"Not at all," Blaine said, smiling. "You have really good taste."</p><p class="western">Kurt rolled his eyes. "Well, of course I do. Was that ever in question?" He opened the fridge and scanned the contents for a moment. "So, I was thinking we could have some tuna, rice, a few vegetables… does any of that sound good to you? I have turkey too, if you don't like fish…"</p><p class="western">"Tuna's fine," Blaine replied, leaning against the wall. "Are you sure you want to cook right now? You must be so tired after working all day. I can go get some take-out…"</p><p class="western">"I like cooking," Kurt said as he gathered the ingredients he needed. "It relaxes me after a long day."</p><p class="western">"Okay, then how can I help?" Blaine looked around, as if he was waiting for one of the vegetables to start bouncing on the counter, screaming <em>chop me, chop me</em>.</p><p class="western">"I don't want you to do anything," Kurt laughed, filling a pot with water for the rice. "Just talk to me while I cook. Usually I just put on the TV in the background, but there's only so much arguing I can do with fictional characters that won't fight back."</p><p class="western">Blaine knew it was supposed to be a joke, but it still sent a pang to his chest, because he was intimately familiar with how much it sucked to always be alone. He was used to it, but for some reason, he felt that someone like Kurt shouldn't have to know what it was like to not have anyone to love.</p><p class="western">"I know exactly what you mean," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "It doesn't get any more pathetic than yelling at football games on the TV, when you're all alone."</p><p class="western">"Ugh, you're one of those, too?" Kurt's nose scrunched adorably. "You'd get along so well with my dad and my stepbrother. I swear whenever there's a Buckeyes game on, it's like watching one of those wildlife documentaries happening right on our couch."</p><p class="western">"I resent that. Just because Buckeyes fans are passionate, it doesn't mean we can't behave like human beings…" Blaine said teasingly.</p><p class="western">"<em>And </em>you like the Buckeyes," Kurt mumbled under his breath. "Of course you do."</p><p class="western">"What is that supposed to mean?" Blaine asked, crossing his arms over his chest.</p><p class="western">"For some reason you're already pretty much at the top of my Dad's favorite people list," Kurt explained, as he put the tuna in a pan. "If he finds out about this, I wouldn't be surprised if he adopted you."</p><p class="western">Blaine laughed. "We've only met <em>once</em>."</p><p class="western">"That's enough for Burt Hummel to know if you're worth his time," Kurt said solemnly.</p><p class="western">Blaine felt himself blushing a bit. "Well… I'm honored. He seems to be a fantastic man."</p><p class="western">"He is," Kurt didn't even hesitate. "I like to think that having such an amazing father was my reward for all the other crap that happened in my life. And even if they're more numerous, I still win…"</p><p class="western">Blaine's hazel eyes followed Kurt as he moved in the tiny kitchen, working. He felt his heart thumping against his ribcage. "I'm glad you have him, then. I hope he knows how lucky he is too…"</p><p class="western">"Oh, I don't think <em>he's </em>lucky. He deserved to have a kid who made things easier for him," Kurt wasn't looking at him as he talked, busy chopping carrots.</p><p class="western">"I'm sure he wouldn't exchange you for the world…" Blaine whispered, but when he noticed how Kurt had stiffened, probably trying to hold back his emotions, he decided to look for a new topic. "How long has he been married to Carole?"</p><p class="western">Kurt told him his family's story as he cooked, and Blaine was happy to lean against the counter and listen, while Kurt talked about his amazing dad, how sweet his stepmother was, and how he still hadn't managed to teach Finn that wearing a brown leather belt with black dress shoes was a fashion crime. He insisted on setting the table while Kurt told him about the one time he'd had to wear Finn's clothes to school for three days after he'd lost a bet and Blaine couldn't help but laugh at how Kurt cringed as he described the outfits.</p><p class="western">"It wasn't funny, Anderson. I cannot rock puffy vests," Kurt huffed, as he placed the food on the small table.</p><p class="western">Blaine took his seat. "If anyone can pull it off, I'm sure it's you."</p><p class="western">"Oh, shush and come eat," Kurt rolled his eyes.</p><p class="western">For a couple of minutes, the only sounds were the forks against the plates, and Blaine's hums of appreciation as he ate. After a few mouthfuls, Blaine took a sip of water and looked at Kurt, pensively. He adjusted his glasses on his nose.</p><p class="western">"I… Kurt?" Kurt, who was chewing, raised a questioning eyebrow at him. "Is this… is this a date?"</p><p class="western">Kurt put his fork down and dabbed at his lips with a napkin, carefully. "I don't know, Blaine. Do you want it to be?"</p><p class="western">Blaine couldn't make himself say it, even though it was just a tiny, three-letter word, so he simply nodded, hazel eyes fixed on Kurt hopefully.</p><p class="western">It was obvious Kurt was trying to look serious, but his lips were curling up into a smile anyway. "Then maybe it is."</p><p class="western"><em>Maybe </em>had never sounded so good to Blaine before.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Kurt buried his face on the pillow and moaned loudly. "Oh god, you're so good at this."</p><p class="western">Blaine smiled complacently at him from where he was sitting on the back of his thighs. "Told you I could make you feel good."</p><p class="western">"Harder," Kurt demanded.</p><p class="western">"Someone's bossy," Blaine leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the back of his neck.</p><p class="western">"I have every right," Kurt answered, as he closed his eyes, reveling in the sensations. "Every fucking muscle in my body is sore and it's entirely your fault."</p><p class="western">"<em>My </em>fault?" Blaine feigned shock, as he massaged Kurt's back with a little bit more pressure.</p><p class="western">"Whose book store is it? Who put all those renovation ideas on his list, huh?"</p><p class="western">"Mm, well, that's true," Blaine hummed. "But I'm trying to make it up to you, right?"</p><p class="western">"I'll consider your debt forgotten if you work on the knot that's killing me…"</p><p class="western">"Which one?" Blaine asked, as his fingers probed gently.</p><p class="western">"Lower, lower… oh yeah, right there," Kurt arched against Blaine's hands when they found the right spot at the small of his back.</p><p class="western">Blaine rolled his eyes. "Just stay still. I can't get it if you keep moving."</p><p class="western">They had gone straight to Kurt's place at the end of the day, and after a shower, Blaine had made Kurt lie down on his bed, because of his constant grumbling about his sore back, after bashing that wall down. Now Kurt's body was loose and smooth under the palms of his hands, completely relaxed after his shower, and only flinching when Blaine touched a particularly sore spot. It felt amazing having him like this, completely at his mercy, pliant and gorgeous under his hands.</p><p class="western">The past few days had been strange, to put it lightly. Neither of them was used to having someone to go home with at the end of the day, someone to share dinner with, someone to discuss anything and everything as they relaxed after work.</p><p class="western">Mostly, they went to Kurt's place, since it was closest, grabbing something to eat and going to bed early, because spending hours and hours exploring each other's bodies hadn't gotten old yet. Blaine was pretty sure he hadn't yet memorized every inch of Kurt's beautiful pale skin, and he was determined to accomplish that.</p><p class="western">Kurt groaned as the knot in the small of his back finally loosened up, and he tried to arch into Blaine's touch. He chuckled and pushed him back down, dropping a quick kiss to the back of his neck.</p><p class="western">"Better?" He whispered.</p><p class="western">Kurt nodded without lifting his head from where it was buried in the pillow. "So much better. Thank you."</p><p class="western">"You should take the day off tomorrow," Blaine said, without even thinking about it. "You've been working hard for weeks…"</p><p class="western">Kurt frowned, as he turned to look at him. "What? We both know you're desperate to open the damn place already! Why would you tell me to take a day off?"</p><p class="western">"Because you deserve it? Because I don't want you to get hurt, pushing yourself too hard? I know you're tired, Kurt," Blaine insisted.</p><p class="western">"It's okay. I've had to work under worse conditions and been a lot more exhausted that I am right now," Kurt shrugged and patted the spot next to him on the mattress, gesturing for Blaine to move closer, then turned on his side, facing him. "You don't need to get all soft with me just because we're sleeping together…"</p><p class="western">Blaine traced the sharp line of his collarbone with the tip of his finger. "I'm not getting <em>soft</em>. I'm being decent. And I'd like to think I'm always a decent person."</p><p class="western">"So you have no ulterior motives?" Kurt asked with a smirk, propping himself up on his elbow. "You're not going to take advantage of me having a day off to come join me in my big, lonely, cold bed…"</p><p class="western">Blaine bit his lip and averted his eyes. "Well, are you inviting me or…?"</p><p class="western">Kurt laughed. "I knew it."</p><p class="western">Blaine let him laugh, mostly because it was so refreshing to see him like that. The sound of Kurt's laugh tugged at his heartstrings every single time. "I'm just kidding," he muttered after a moment. "I was planning to buy paint to start on the walls next week, so I'm not going to be at the book store much… well, at all. And one day off won't throw us completely off schedule, so please don't worry about it. Stay home, visit your dad, do whatever you want to do…"</p><p class="western">Kurt averted his eyes and bit his lip. "I… I'd rather not, really. I need to do my job, Blaine."</p><p class="western">He seemed a little uncomfortable so Blaine decided not to push it. He knew Kurt still had trouble accepting that things were different now, that he was allowed to be tired or to need time for himself, that he wouldn't be judged for any reason. Blaine simply smiled lightly and gave him a quick peck on the lips before standing up to look for his shirt to put it back on. "Whatever you decide is fine with me. I'd ask you to help me choose the paint colors, but it'll probably be boring…"</p><p class="western">"Wait," Kurt said, frowning. "You mean you <em>still </em>don't know which colors you're going to be using?"</p><p class="western">"Well, I've narrowed it down to a few options, but I'm not <em>entirely </em>sure…" Blaine admitted as he stopped by the doorway. "Why?"</p><p class="western">"What are your options?" Kurt glanced at him curiously.</p><p class="western">"I was thinking about a light yellow and some blue for the…"</p><p class="western">"No," Kurt interrupted immediately. "No, what are you doing? You can't base your color palette on… Blaine, no."</p><p class="western">Blaine had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing at how concerned Kurt sounded. "No?"</p><p class="western">"No. You need transition between each color, you can't just go from yellow to blue, it's not that easy," Kurt stood up as well. "What's your theme?"</p><p class="western">"Theme?" Blaine was now truly confused.</p><p class="western">"Yes, you need a theme." Kurt blinked as he waited for Blaine's answer, but since Blaine just stared at him blankly, he sighed dramatically. "Screw my day off. I'm going with you or this bookshop will end up looking like something out of an acid-induced hallucination…"</p><p class="western">"Hey!" Blaine said, pouting, mildly offended. "My taste isn't that bad…"</p><p class="western">"We'll see, dear," Kurt muttered with a condescending grin as he patted Blaine's cheek, before walking out of the room to go downstairs and start dinner. "We'll see."</p><hr/><p class="western">They made a quick stop at the Lima Bean the next morning before heading to Home Depot. It was clear Kurt had definite opinions when it came to interior design, and Blaine could only absorb them after he'd consumed a considerable amount of caffeine first. Kurt had already named so many colors that Blaine didn't even know existed, and he was starting to feel dizzy. Maybe he should've chosen to paint the entire place white. You can never go wrong with white, right?</p><p class="western">Any color-related thought escaped Blaine's mind as soon as they parked the car and walked into the store. Kurt went silent immediately, tensing his jaw and stiffening his posture, sure to keep distance between them as they looked for the paint aisle.</p><p class="western">"Kurt?" Blaine ventured to say, leaning closer to him. "Are you okay?"</p><p class="western">"Yes. Let's just get this done," Kurt answered, in that voice of his that didn't really sound like his, at least not anymore, now that Blaine knew how unique it really was. He was speaking in the lower tone he'd always used those first weeks working for him, and it made Blaine instantly sad to know Kurt couldn't even go into a store without feeling threatened by acting naturally.</p><p class="western">For a moment, Blaine considered leaving the store. He considered driving somehwere else, where Kurt wouldn't be constantly afraid of showing who he was. He considered holding onto him until his fears vanished, until Blaine could see the real Kurt, the one he rarely glimpsed vulnerable and panting under his sheets.</p><p class="western">Knowing that wasn't possible, Blaine decided to settle for distracting Kurt so that he would forget, at least for an instant, how threatened he felt. It wasn't as hard as he initially thought it would be, because as soon as Blaine found the color samples, Kurt became engrossed in them.</p><p class="western">"This color would look amazing with the wooden floors once they're completely restored… oh! And these two would look lovely in that children's area you mentioned you wanted. They're so playful and fun…" Kurt rambled, as he pointed to different samples, so quickly that Blaine barely had time to see which colors he was talking about. "What about this one? What do you think?"</p><p class="western">Blaine had actually stopped trying to follow whatever Kurt was excited about, and instead admired the enthusiasm light up his face, in his beautiful, breathtaking eyes. He was fascinated. But then Kurt turned to him, and caught Blaine gaping like a fish out of water. "Oh. Well. Those are… yeah. I like… yeah."</p><p class="western">"Are you even listening to anything I said?" Kurt rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance, but failing miserably since a smile was trying to tug at his lips. "This is <em>your </em>book store, you know. You should be the one involved here…"</p><p class="western">"Yes! I'm sorry, it's just that you were so…" Blaine trailed off when he realized Kurt's eyes had wandered to something behind him. His smile faded and he went even paler than usual. "Kurt?"</p><p class="western">"Kurt?" Someone echoed. Blaine turned to see a couple walking down the aisle with a shopping cart. The man had short curly blonde hair and the woman had big green eyes and beautiful ginger hair. She was also very, very pregnant. It was the man who had spoken, and his face parted in a huge grin when he realized it really was Kurt standing there. "Kurt! I can't believe it's you! I haven't seen you in years!"</p><p class="western">Kurt cleared his throat. "Hi, Mr. Schuester… Miss Pillsbury…"</p><p class="western">"Oh, it's Mrs. Schuester now," the woman replied, smiling just as widely as her husband. "What a nice surprise seeing you here! We were picking up stuff for the baby's room! He's due soon and there's still so much to do!"</p><p class="western">"Yeah. Congratulations," Kurt said awkwardly. Blaine put a hand on the small of his back in support, before he realized it might not be welcome. It evidently wasn't, because Kurt tensed as soon as he touched him.</p><p class="western">"Is this your boyfriend?" Mr. Schuester asked him, still smiling.</p><p class="western">Blaine pulled his hand away as fast as he could. "No, no." He said, wanting to spare Kurt any more discomfort. "We're…"</p><p class="western">"I'm working for him," Kurt finished. "I work in construction now."</p><p class="western">Mr. Schuester seemed taken aback by Kurt's words. "Construction? Last I heard, you were going to New York with Rachel Berry to…"</p><p class="western">"It didn't work out," Kurt cut him off a little too sharply, effectively silencing the man. "But you'll be glad to know she's doing really well. Now, if you'll excuse me…" He turned back to the samples. "What about this one, Mr. Anderson?" He spoke through gritted teeth.</p><p class="western">Blaine ignored the fact that it was the ugliest shade of brown he had ever seen in his life. He simply nodded and waited until he heard the couple walking away.</p><hr/><p class="western">"Are you okay?"</p><p class="western">Kurt's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Blaine had waited until they were back in the car to ask, not wanting to put Kurt even more on edge, but he needed to be sure Kurt truly was okay.</p><p class="western">"Yes," Kurt shrugged and turned the engine on. "I mean, I almost had a heart attack when you tried to combine the forest green with that horrible orange, but…"</p><p class="western">"Kurt," Blaine interrupted gently. He placed his hand on his knee and squeezed lightly. "You know what I mean."</p><p class="western">Kurt sighed impatiently as he pulled out of the parking lot. "I'm fine. I promise. I'm not some fucking delicate doll that's going to break just because we ran into a teacher from high school."</p><p class="western">Blaine squeezed once again before taking his hand off his leg. "You seemed upset. I just wanted to make sure."</p><p class="western">"I'm fine," he repeated, obviously frustrated. "And I'll be even better when we get to my place and you let me fuck you into my mattress."</p><p class="western">Blaine's breath hitched, even though he knew Kurt was saying that to deflect attention, even though he knew Kurt was using sex – <em>him </em>– as a distraction. "I-I thought you didn't want a day off? I thought you wanted to go straight to the book store to finish with the carpet?"</p><p class="western">"Screw your pathetic little bookshop," Kurt snapped, as he took a turn a little too abruptly. "It would be a complete fucking waste of my time if you weren't paying me. No one is gonna give a shit about it anyway."</p><p class="western">Blaine knew Kurt was only saying those things because he was angry, because he was hurt… but his words still stung. He faced the window for the rest of the ride, not saying anything. When they arrived at Kurt's house, he also followed him inside without saying anything.</p><p class="western">It seemed easier that way.</p><hr/><p class="western">Blaine panted harshly after his orgasm, his heart beating wildly, with Kurt still buried deep inside of him. He didn't want to open his tightly closed eyes, and face the aftermath, the reasons why they had torn each other's clothes off and trashed the bed.</p><p class="western">Kurt broke the silence, quietly, lips brushing the column of his neck. "I'm sorry, Blaine."</p><p class="western">He pulled out gently to get rid of the condom, as Blaine shifted to his side to look at Kurt. "Kurt…"</p><p class="western">"No," Kurt cut him off. "I was such a jerk today. I really, really was. I said things I didn't mean to and I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to deal with all my crap. It wasn't your fault that we ran into someone who said all the wrong things." He started stroking Blaine's hair carefully, undoing everything Blaine had done with the gel that morning, and freeing the curls completely. "If there's anyone who doesn't deserve to be treated that way, it's you. You're so sweet and patient, and I… I didn't mean to take my anger and frustration out on you. It was unfair …"</p><p class="western">Blaine stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. He truly wanted to help Kurt, even if he didn't quite understand <em>why </em>yet, but he couldn't deny that Kurt was incredibly adroit at hurting his feelings.</p><p class="western">"I'm just…" Kurt swallowed, awkwardly, blue eyes fixed on Blaine's bare shoulder, unable to look him in the eyes. "I suck at this, okay? I suck at being nice to people because I'm used to everyone being assholes to me. I suck at… at being… <em>intimate </em>with someone." A slight blush crept up his cheeks. "This is the closest thing to a real relationship I've ever had, and now you understand why," he added, the words leaving him in a rush, as if it was particularly hard to admit. "Apparently, I suck at life in general, so…"</p><p class="western">Blaine moved forward then, capturing Kurt's lips in his before he could go on, kissing him firmly but sweetly, caressing his bottom lip – so pink and swollen from all the kissing they had already done – with the tip of his tongue, just enough to leave Kurt wanting more.</p><p class="western">When they parted, Kurt's eyes were a little darker, wide, and fixed on Blaine's mouth, as if all he really wanted to do was to lean in and kiss him again. "So… does that mean I'm forgiven?"</p><p class="western">"Maybe," Blaine replied, but there was an edge of teasing in his voice. He nudged Kurt's foot with his under the sheets. "I'm sort of curious about your past relationships, now…"</p><p class="western">"Told you," Kurt said, rolling his eyes. "They weren't exactly relationships."</p><p class="western">"I'm still curious," Blaine settled against the pillows comfortably, ignoring his urgent need for a shower.</p><p class="western">Kurt sighed, but turned to lie on his back, staring up at the ceiling. "Fine. But if you judge me, I'll kick you out of my house. Naked, for all of Lima to see."</p><p class="western">"Sure you will," Blaine poked him on the side and Kurt squirmed away from him, grabbing his hand to keep him from poking him again. "And you should know I would never judge you."</p><p class="western">Kurt made a noncommittal sound.</p><p class="western">"Come on," Blaine insisted. "Tell me about your first kiss."</p><p class="western">Playing with Blaine's fingers, Kurt was, once again avoiding looking at him. "Junior year of high school. The guy who bullied me every single day for being gay, was actually a closeted jock. He forced a kiss on me when we were alone in the boys locker room."</p><p class="western">Kurt spoke in a calm voice, as if it wasn't that big a deal, but the way his restless hands kept playing with Blaine's fingers as if he needed something to focus on, told Blaine a whole different story.</p><p class="western">"Kurt…" Blaine said horrified. "That's…"</p><p class="western">"Yeah, it really sucked," Kurt interrupted. "Luckily, he transferred to another school in my senior year, so…" When it seemed like Blaine was about to say something else, Kurt continued to avoid being pitied by anyone. "That was the high point in my love life while I was still in high school, so that should tell you something…"</p><p class="western">"Kurt, stop," Blaine scooted closer. "I'm sorry. That shouldn't have been…"</p><p class="western">"It's okay. It happened over a decade ago. I'm over it," Kurt said dismissively. "Worse things happen every day."</p><p class="western">"But it was your first kiss…" Blaine muttered sadly. When Kurt didn't reply, he decided to let it go. "Okay. Well… did it get better after high school?"</p><p class="western">"You could say that," Kurt shrugged. "At least I wasn't being hate-kissed. I had sort of a boyfriend when I lived in New York, but it didn't last long. I was having trouble making a living there and considering coming back here, so I wasn't really prepared to put a lot of effort into a relationship when my life was kind of falling apart around me. He broke up with me a couple weeks before I came back to live with my parents."</p><p class="western">Blaine was starting to regret asking Kurt about his past relationships. The more he spoke, the more bitter he sounded. Blaine hated that most of Kurt's memories were unpleasant, that he had so much trouble trying to find a single positive thing to say about his life.</p><p class="western">"Then nothing interesting happened for a couple of years," Kurt continued. He had stopped playing with Blaine's hand and was simply holding it. "I gave up on finding someone compatible in Lima after a while, and ended up going to Scandals every now and then…"</p><p class="western">"Scandals?" Blaine asked, not understanding.</p><p class="western">"It's a gay bar, just outside of town," Kurt explained impassively, sounding almost bored as he talked about it. "It's the kind of place where kids sneak in with fake IDs and where old guys hide from their wives and kids to be themselves for a few hours every night. It's not very glamorous or exciting, but I guess that's the best you can get in Ohio…"</p><p class="western">"So…" Blaine was confused. "You met someone there?"</p><p class="western">"I met lots of <em>someones </em>there," Kurt clarified darkly. "<em>Someones </em>I wouldn't have looked at twice when I was living in New York."</p><p class="western">"So you ended up dating guys who you wouldn't have if…" Blaine started saying, but Kurt cut off.</p><p class="western">"No, Blaine," his tone was flat. "I didn't <em>date </em>them. Going home with them and letting them fuck me isn't what I call dating. Humping a forty year old man with a wedding band on his finger in a dark alley behind a mediocre bar isn't dating."</p><p class="western">Blaine frowned, propped himself up on his elbows and hovered over Kurt, looking down at him. "Kurt…"</p><p class="western">"So, is this when you start judging me?" Kurt mumbled harshly. "Is this when you realize how disgusting and worthless I am? Is this when you start regretting you ever shared my bed in the first place?"</p><p class="western">"No, Kurt, I…" Blaine said breathlessly. He leaned in to kiss him, fiercely. "Nothing about you is disgusting and worthless. Nothing that ever happened in your past could make me stop being with you now, or regret I was with you in the first place," he whispered against Kurt's lips. "Kurt. You're beautiful, everything about you is…"</p><p class="western">"We both know that's not true…" Kurt muttered weakly.</p><p class="western">"It is," Blaine insisted, looking into his eyes to make his words sink in. "You're beautiful, smart, amazing… and it's not your fault that life has turned its back on you a few times. The things that happened to you… none of them define you."</p><p class="western">"I could've made different choices…" Kurt said softly.</p><p class="western">"But this is where you are right now. There's no use in wondering what could've happened if you had taken Exit A instead of Exit B," Blaine moved until he was lying on top of him, and cupped his face in his hands. "Believe me, I question myself every day. I wonder what might have changed if I hadn't been such a coward when I was younger – and I still am, sometimes. But in the end, I'm here. And maybe some of my choices weren't the best ones, but I'm here, with you, in this bed, in your arms, right now. And if I could go back in time knowing this is where I'd end up, I wouldn't change a damn thing, because even if this ends as soon as you're done working for me, even if you kick me out of your life as soon as the day is over, it's worth it. <em>You </em>are worth it."</p><p class="western">A very slow smile made its way onto Kurt's lips. It wasn't a happy smile, more like a resigned one, but it was good enough, for now. "Is that speech from some book? Because it was really good."</p><p class="western">"No, that's an original Blaine Anderson," Blaine teased, tilting his head into Kurt's touch when he started stroking his dark curls again. "But maybe I should write it down for you, just for future reference."</p><p class="western">Kurt placed a kiss on the corner of Blaine's mouth. "You're such an amazing guy, Blaine. I don't know why you're wasting your time with me, but I'm glad you are."</p><p class="western">"Because unfortunately John Grisham is straight and too old for me, so…" Blaine teased playfully, earning a quick shove on the shoulder from Kurt.</p><p class="western">"Oh, is <em>that </em>how it is?" Kurt narrowed his eyes, but the dark cloud in them had vanished. "You're just here because you can't get it on with some dumb writer?"</p><p class="western">"<em>Dumb writer</em>? He's a bestselling author, Kurt!" Blaine exclaimed, scandalized. "Do you even know how many books… <em>umph</em>!"</p><p class="western">Kurt licked his way into his mouth, silencing him very effectively.</p><hr/><p class="western">"Good morning!"</p><p class="western">Blaine walked into the bookshop on Monday morning, carrying a few bags. Kurt was already there, rolling up the carpet to dispose of it later, but when he looked up at the other man, his eyebrows shot up all the way to his hairline.</p><p class="western">"Uhm, Blaine?"</p><p class="western">"Yeah?" Blaine said as he put his things down. "Is that a doll?"</p><p class="western">It was, indeed a doll, tall enough to reach Blaine's waist, with long, blonde hair and big blue eyes. It was also completely naked, except for a pair of plastic black shoes.</p><p class="western">"Yes! Isn't she pretty?" Blaine smiled at him as he propped the doll up against a wall to admire her.</p><p class="western">"Uhm," Kurt blinked, wondering if this was really happening. "I think we need to talk about whatever kinky shit is going on in your head right now, because I'm sure as hell not being part of it…"</p><p class="western">"What?" Blaine turned to face him, eyes wide, suddenly getting Kurt's point. "No! Kurt, come on! Oh my god!"</p><p class="western">"Just please explain what you're doing with that," Kurt pointed at the doll, still grimacing.</p><p class="western">"You're such a pervert," Blaine shook his head. "I found her yesterday when I was shopping with my mom and I thought she would be perfect for the display I want to put in the window. I've been thinking of doing a theme every month, and this doll looks a lot like Alice, you know, from <em>Alice in Wonderland</em>. It's such a colorful story, so I thought it would be something fun to start with."</p><p class="western">"Alice isn't usually naked," Kurt muttered, with an eyebrow still arched.</p><p class="western">"What is wrong with you? Are you trying to ruin one of my favorite childhood memories?" Blaine pouted and crossed his arms over his chest.</p><p class="western">Kurt raised his hands in front of himself, defensively. "Sorry. This looks sort of weird from my point of view, you know. So why is she naked?"</p><p class="western">"Because I couldn't find the right dress for her. I can't put her in just any dress. It needs to be <em>Alice's </em>dress, the blue and white one. I want it to be perfect," Blaine said sadly. "It's nowhere to be found, though. I went everywhere I could think of. I found a girls Halloween costume, but it's too big for the doll…"</p><p class="western">Kurt took the doll and examined her carefully. "What kind of dress came with the doll?"</p><p class="western">"A yellow one with daisies all over it," Blaine said. "It was hideous."</p><p class="western">"Uhm," Kurt hummed thoughtfully. He put the doll back down. "Well, you still have some time before you need to really worry about this. I'm going to start sanding the floor now. Then with a few layers of varnish, it'll look just as good as new. We can paint the walls once that's done and then the only thing left in your list is to assemble all the furniture, so…"</p><p class="western">"I can't believe it's almost done," Blaine smiled as he looked around. His dream was so close to coming true…</p><p class="western">"It'll look great," Kurt brushed the small of his back with the tips of his fingers as he moved past him to go back to work. "You'll see…"</p><p class="western">"All thanks to you," Blaine whispered warmly.</p><p class="western">Kurt simply rolled his eyes and asked Blaine to help him carry the carpet out of the way.</p><p class="western">The next few hours were spent sanding imperfections out of the wooden floor, making sure there were no traces of the glue used to put the carpet on so many years ago. After it was meticulously clean, Kurt applied the first coat of varnish, so when it was done, there wasn't much they could do there for the rest of the day.</p><p class="western">"What do you say if we go to your place and you let me cook you something for once?" Blaine proposed.</p><p class="western">Kurt was throwing his things in the back of his truck. "Oh. No, sorry. I can't today, but I'd love a raincheck for that."</p><p class="western">"Sure," Blaine frowned. They didn't go home together every day, but until now, every time either of them had offered to, no one had said no. For a moment, Blaine wondered if he'd done something wrong.</p><p class="western">Kurt gave him a little smile before climbing into the driver's seat. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."</p><p class="western">"Yeah," Blaine muttered, and then watched him go, until Kurt's truck turned the corner.</p><p class="western">When Blaine got home, he realized his apartment had never felt as empty as it felt that night.</p><hr/><p class="western">Saying Blaine was anxious to get to the book store the next morning was putting things lightly. He arrived there ten minutes early, and then stared at the door, waiting for Kurt for a long time, but there was no sign of him anywhere.</p><p class="western">There was a knot in Blaine's stomach. Why wasn't he there? Kurt was very rarely late. Something must have happened… first he couldn't spend the evening with Blaine and now <em>this</em>?</p><p class="western">Maybe he was tired of Blaine already, and he didn't know how to let him down gently…</p><p class="western">Needing to do something, Blaine began preparing the floor for another layer of varnish. Maybe he should do it himself, in case Kurt never showed up. He <em>would </em>probably show up eventually. Even if he didn't want anything to do with Blaine anymore, he had a job to finish. Kurt wouldn't just quit without finishing what he'd been hired to do…</p><p class="western">"Hey!"</p><p class="western">Blaine's head snapped up so quickly he could hear his neck crack. He winced.</p><p class="western">"Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Kurt said apologetically. "Are you okay?"</p><p class="western">"Yeah," Blaine answered as he rubbed his neck. He couldn't help the rush of relief flooding him.</p><p class="western">"I know I'm late, so don't go all upset boss on me, okay? I went to bed really late last night and I couldn't get my ass out of bed this morning…" Kurt explained as he put his toolbox on the floor.</p><p class="western">The knot in Blaine's stomach tightened for a moment. "Oh. Were you… were you out late last night?" He asked, looking down at his own hands, to prepare for whatever Kurt would say.</p><p class="western">
  <em>You're not together. He's not your boyfriend. If he wants to go out, he can. He can go and hook up with another guy. He can do whatever he wants and he doesn't have to explain to you. He doesn't have to…</em>
</p><p class="western">"No, I stayed home. But I was really busy making <em>this</em>," Kurt replied, putting a paper bag in Blaine's arms.</p><p class="western">Blaine frowned in confusion. "What is this?"</p><p class="western">Kurt was biting his lip, and he seemed a little anxious. "Just open it."</p><p class="western">Blaine obliged, pulling out whatever was in the bag. It was soft and it felt like fabric…</p><p class="western">His heart stopped beating for a moment as he unfolded the blue and white dress, the one he had been looking for everywhere, the one he was afraid he'd never find.</p><p class="western">He looked up at Kurt, not understanding.</p><p class="western">"You said you wanted it to be perfect, so I assumed your only option was to get it custom made," Kurt shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal. "I learnt how to sew when I was a kid, so…"</p><p class="western">"You <em>made </em>this," Blaine muttered, incredulous.</p><p class="western">"Yeah," Kurt blushed a pretty shade of pink. "After I left here yesterday, I bought the fabric and then I went to my parents' house and dug out my sewing machine in the basement. I think it should fit alright, but I can fix it if it's not…"</p><p class="western">Blaine had been staring at him wide-eyed as Kurt talked, but he couldn't help himself any more. He interrupted him with a kiss, sliding a hand to the back of his neck and pulling him in, ignoring Kurt's sounds of protest.</p><p class="western">"Kurt, you…" He breathed shakily after he pulled away. "You…"</p><p class="western">"It's just a dress, Anderson," Kurt rolled his eyes, but it was obvious he was trying to play it cool – and failing horribly at it.</p><p class="western">"It's not, it's…" Blaine looked down at the dress he was still holding. "Kurt, this is perfect. You have such talent…"</p><p class="western">"It's too easy to impress you," Kurt snorted as he turned to start working.</p><p class="western">"No," Blaine said, shaking his head. "Kurt, I mean it. This is amazing." He swallowed, knowing Kurt would get upset by his next words. "Kurt, you should really do this for a living. I'm sure you could have a career in fashion if only you'd…"</p><p class="western">"Blaine," Kurt's voice was sharp, firm. "Don't. You know how things are. I've already tried it, and it didn't work out. I'm not going to waste any more time with childish dreams. And, besides, it's just a stupid dress for a doll. It's not haute couture."</p><p class="western">Blaine had to bite his tongue to stop himself from arguing, but he decided to let it go. He didn't want to make Kurt grieve the life he could've had if things worked out differently. He simply nodded. "Thank you, Kurt. I really… I don't know what to say. It's just what I wanted."</p><p class="western">Kurt's face softened. "I'm glad you like it."</p><p class="western">"I love it," Blaine whispered. Kurt smiled at him in response.</p><p class="western">Blaine looked down at the dress in his hands once again. No one had ever done something like this for him. Maybe it was something trivial in Kurt's eyes, but it wasn't to Blaine. Blaine knew most people didn't get him … and the fact that Kurt had taken the time to do this, to give Blaine this… it meant the world.</p><p class="western">Blaine's hazel eyes filled with tears and he wiped them away hastily, and that's when it hit him. That's how he knew that he was completely, irrevocably, head over heels in love with Kurt Hummel.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">The cellphone buzzed on the counter while Blaine was sleepily pouring himself a cup of coffee. He stifled a yawn as he reached for it and saw it was his mother. He'd stayed up until very late the previous night to finish the book he'd been reading, unable to put it down so close to the end, even though he knew he'd be stumbling around half asleep the whole next day.</p><p class="western">"Hello?" He mumbled blearily.</p><p class="western">"Blaine? Oh, dear, you sound awful," Heather said anxiously on the other end. Blaine scrunched his nose as he took a sip of coffee. He'd made it a lot stronger than he usually drank it because he really needed a jolt to wake up today. "Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?"</p><p class="western">"I'm fine, Mom. I'm just still trying to wake up," he answered as reassuringly as he could. "I was up pretty late last night reading. How are you?"</p><p class="western">"I… have to be honest with you, Blaine," Heather said softly. "I'm a little worried about you."</p><p class="western">Blaine put his mug down on the counter, frowning. "What? Why would you be worried?"</p><p class="western">"Because you've been acting sort of weirdly lately?" She muttered. "Every time I call you, you sound distracted or sleepy or tired. And the last few times I've seen you, you seemed changed. I don't know how to explain it, but I really want to know if something's wrong. What is it, Blaine? Talk to me, darling."</p><p class="western">Blaine sighed, dropping into a chair at the kitchen table. "Nothing's wrong, I swear. I'm sorry if I worried you…"</p><p class="western">"Blaine," she interrupted, in her firm, <em>I'm-your-mother-and-I-know </em>voice.</p><p class="western">As he ran a hand down his face, Blaine realized there wasn't anything he could say to placate his mother without lying to her. And he really didn't want to do that.</p><p class="western">"I'm sort of seeing someone," he confessed.</p><p class="western">The squeal of absolute joy and excitement that exploded through the phone forced him to pull it away from his ear before he ended up deaf.</p><p class="western">"Mom, gosh, please calm down," he mumbled, embarrassed.</p><p class="western">"Why haven't you told me? Who is he?"</p><p class="western">"Because it's… complicated," Blaine stood up to grab his coffee again, to fortify himself. "He's not sure if he's ready for a steady relationship yet, I think. Life hasn't been easy on him, and I'm just following his lead on this, mostly, so I'm not sure where we stand."</p><p class="western">"But Blaine…" Heather said, her euphoria gone. "Is that fair to you? A relationship is between two people. Your feelings and opinions should matter, too."</p><p class="western">"I know. I just… I don't want to overwhelm him, or do anything that will make him uncomfortable," Blaine explained, rubbing his temple. He was starting to get a headache. "I don't know if what we have is going to end up being anything more than what it is right now, so…"</p><p class="western">Heather sighed on the other end. "Are you sure you're not going to end up getting hurt? What if you fall in love with him and things don't work out?"</p><p class="western">The silence that followed was all the answer Heather needed.</p><p class="western">"Oh my god, Blaine! Are you in love with him already?" She exclaimed. Blaine groaned to himself and drank more coffee. "Dear…"</p><p class="western">"Don't bother to tell me I'm being stupid. I already know I'm putting myself at risk here. He's the kind of guy who can break hearts just by breathing…"</p><p class="western">"Oh, you're in deep…"</p><p class="western">"I am," Blaine admitted. "But he's… Mom, he's amazing. He's beautiful and he doesn't even know it. He's so brave, but he doesn't believe it when someone tells him so. He's broken and all I want to do is put him back together just so I can see him smile…"</p><p class="western">"Blaine…" She whispered, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "He sounds wonderful, and he sounds like he needs you, but… I'm concerned. If you think he might break your heart…"</p><p class="western">"Isn't love always a risk?" Blaine said, biting his lip.</p><p class="western">There was a pause, and then he heard her breathing quietly. "Yes. Yes, it is. What's his name? I want to know more about him."</p><p class="western">"His name is Kurt…"</p><p class="western">"Kurt?" She interrupted, surprised. "<em>Kurt</em>? Isn't Kurt the man you…"</p><p class="western">"Hired to work for me at the book store?" He finished for her. He took a deep breath. "Yes, he is the same one, Mom."</p><p class="western">"Well, then," Heather muttered. Blaine didn't like her tone. "I think I really need to meet this man."</p><p class="western">Blaine downed the rest of his coffee in one big gulp.</p><hr/><p class="western">The strong smell of paint pervading the book store was almost unbearable. Blaine was sure he would still be able to smell it on his clothes even after he washed them. It would probably stay on his skin and hair, no matter how hard he tried to wash it off in the shower.</p><p class="western">Kurt didn't seem to have the same concern. He was working as efficiently as usual, dipping the paintbrush in the deep red paint, and painting the walls effortlessly. But Blaine found himself staring at the muscles of his back and arms shifting, moving under the white cotton of his t-shirt.</p><p class="western">Kurt wiped the sweat off his forehead, using his forearms as to not get paint on his face, and sighed. "Can you pass me a bottle of water, please? I'm dehydrating."</p><p class="western">"Sure," Blaine said, trying to sound casual as he opened one for him.</p><p class="western">"Thanks," Kurt took a swig and Blaine found it impossible to keep his eyes from fixing on Kurt's throat, as he swallowed… "You perv."</p><p class="western">"I… what?" Blaine mumbled, blinking at him, dumbly.</p><p class="western">Kurt smirked. "You said you were going to help me paint, but you've been ogling me for ages. Subtlety is not your friend, Blaine."</p><p class="western">"I was <em>not </em>ogling," Blaine scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.</p><p class="western">"Mm," Kurt hummed, amused. He rolled his eyes as he took another sip, not missing the way Blaine's gaze went right back to his throat. "Right, I'm sure you weren't."</p><p class="western">Blaine blinked, to get a grip on himself and cleared his throat. He looked at the half-painted wall. "So, uhm, you said the colors needed to…"</p><p class="western">"Blaine," Kurt muttered, interrupting him.</p><p class="western">"Yes?" Blaine raised his eyebrows, questioningly.</p><p class="western">Kurt booped Blaine's nose with the paintbrush, taking Blaine by surprise. He barked out a laugh, almost doubling over. "Oh my gosh, you look like a clown!"</p><p class="western">"Kurt!" Blaine whined, shocked. "What did you do that for?"</p><p class="western">"Because you were perving on me," Kurt answered, biting his lip, clearly trying to hold back more laughter.</p><p class="western">"So you decided to act like a child? Very mature of you," Blaine turned to find a cloth to wipe his nose clean with, even though he knew it wouldn't remove most of it.</p><p class="western">"At least you admitted to being a per-… hey!" Kurt cried out, when Blaine quickly grabbed the spare paintbrush (the one he was supposed to be using) and traced a thick red line down Kurt's cheek. "You asshole!"</p><p class="western">"Oh, so it's okay if <em>you </em>do it, but if <em>I </em>do it I'm an asshole?" Blaine smirked playfully. Then he instantly took three steps back when Kurt moved forward menacingly with the brush.</p><p class="western">"Do you have any idea how much moisturizer I'm going to have to use on my skin after this, Anderson?" Kurt said, narrowing his eyes.</p><p class="western">"You started it, Kurt. I simply…"</p><p class="western">But before Blaine could say anything else, Kurt was running the brush down Blaine's arm, barely missing his clothes.</p><p class="western">"Hey!"</p><p class="western">A few minutes later, it stopped being important who had started it, or who was being more immature, because they were both chasing each other around the bookshop, and Blaine realized he had never felt as free as he felt right then. But, besides that, he realized that he had never seen Kurt like this either. Because not even when they were in bed together was Kurt completely relaxed and at ease. But now, acting like a kid, laughing, playful, teasing, he was a different man. One that made Blaine fall a little more in love with him.</p><p class="western">The battle to get the other covered in paint ended when Blaine pushed Kurt against a wall and crowded him between his arms on either side of him, leaning in. Kurt's breath hitched and Blaine smiled in victory.</p><p class="western">"Who's laughing now, Hummel?" He teased, so close to Kurt that his breath was warming his pale skin.</p><p class="western">But Kurt's face was completely serious now. His eyes flickered up and behind Blaine, to where the window was, before he dropped the paintbrush and put his hands on Blaine's chest, to push him away a little. "Blaine… please, get off of me. Anyone could see…"</p><p class="western">Blaine's entire body froze and a flash of self-hatred rushed over him for being the one to make Kurt sound like that. He never wanted to be the guy who gave him any reason to be scared, to put him on edge. He stepped back immediately, looking at him apologetically and feeling like the biggest idiot in the world.</p><p class="western">"I'm sorry, Kurt, I didn't mean to…"</p><p class="western">"It's okay," Kurt replied, in a quiet voice, but he was still making sure no one had seen him, almost as if he was expecting someone to be glued to the window to see what they were doing. "I just… I don't like to…"</p><p class="western">"I know," Blaine said as soothingly as he could, wishing he could pull him into his arms. "I know."</p><p class="western">Kurt swallowed and forced himself to look away from the window and back into Blaine's earnest hazel eyes. Blaine could see the mix of emotions flashing through his face, struggling for dominance. He startled when he felt Kurt's hand in his, when his long fingers closed around his wrist to make him follow.</p><p class="western">The back room was safely away from any prying eyes, a little shelter from the outside world. Kurt pushed him back against the wall, very much in the same manner Blaine had mere minutes ago, and lost no time in closing the gap, pressing his body to his, letting his lips seek Blaine's.</p><p class="western">It was a desperate, wet messy kiss, slightly off-center. Kurt's tongue made its way into Blaine's mouth almost as soon as their lips connected, as if the simple contact of lips on lips just wasn't enough. Blaine whimpered, hands tightening on Kurt's waist, needing something to ground him as he was shocked with a million sensations all at once.</p><p class="western">Kurt pulled away after a few seconds, panting violently, his fists wringing Blaine's navy polo.</p><p class="western">"I need you," he said, voice thick and breathless, and Blaine had never heard him like that before. "Blaine, please…"</p><p class="western">"What do you want?" Blaine asked, shakily.</p><p class="western">"I want to touch you. I need to touch you, right here, right now…" Kurt's fingers were already fumbling with Blaine's belt.</p><p class="western">Blaine wasn't sure what was going on in Kurt's head, but if that was what Kurt wanted, needed, then he would give him anything, everything. "<em>Yes</em>."</p><p class="western">Kurt got the zipper down plunging his hand into Blaine's underwear, to grasp him. He stroked him hard, immediately gathering the first drops of pre-come to make the slide easier. Blaine moaned quietly, shutting his eyes and letting his head fall back against the wall.</p><p class="western">Kurt latched his mouth onto Blaine's exposed throat, sucking on his pulse point in a way that was sure to leave a mark. Blaine didn't care, though. He would wear Kurt's marks proudly if only he didn't stop what he was doing.</p><p class="western">"Kurt…" He moaned brokenly. "Please…"</p><p class="western">Kurt circled the head with his thumb in an upstroke, making Blaine groan. Blaine bucked into his hand, trying to get even more fiction, feeling like he could never get enough with Kurt. He just wanted more and more, and wished they never had to stop.</p><p class="western">"Y-you too," he babbled, his brain barely working enough for him to get his hands between them, trying to get at Kurt's pants. "I want to feel you, too…"</p><p class="western">Blaine whined when Kurt stopped stroking him long enough for Blaine to be able to get his pants undone, pushing them aside so he could get into Kurt's boxer briefs, but was rewarded when he finally had Kurt hard, hot and gorgeous in hand. Kurt bit his lip to stifle a moan and swatted Blaine's hand away to take over, wrapping his fingers around both of them with a little difficulty. Blaine whined when he felt both their lengths pressed together. All that tightness and heat was impossibly delicious, causing them to moan into each other's mouths when they leaned in for a hungry kiss.</p><p class="western">Kurt was rough, frantic. He stroked them both, pushing them further and further to the edge, making Blaine nearly scream in pleasure. Knowing the town Kurt was scared of, that frowned at what they were, was just on the other side of the wall, made the temperature in the room increase by several degrees. Blaine wanted to show them, wanted to let them know how unfortunate they were, because they didn't get to feel Kurt like this, to kiss him, to have him. Only Blaine knew how glorious he was like this.</p><p class="western">Their orgasms struck them like lightning, shaking them both to their cores, ripping moans from Kurt's lips that he muffled by biting on Blaine's shoulder, while Blaine wantonly threw his head back and let them out, let them free, let them echo against the walls.</p><p class="western">Kurt's fist was covered in their come, hot and sticky, his fingers still wrapped around them, as if he couldn't bring himself to let go. It was a contrast, after something so purely sexual, to the kisses he slowly, tenderly trailed up Blaine's neck and jaw, until he reached his lips, claiming them in an equally slow and tender kiss. He barely pulled away to whisper against them: "thank you."</p><p class="western">Blaine wasn't sure what he was being thanked for. He couldn't understand all of Kurt's reasons; he hadn't reached the deepest part of his soul where all the answers lived, not yet, at least. But he enveloped Kurt in his arms, pulling him flush against his chest, and rested their foreheads together before he whispered back: "anytime."</p><hr/><p class="western">Once they were able to breathe normally again, Blaine convinced Kurt to call it a day, even if it was still quite early. Kurt's blue eyes had wandered around the bookshop, taking in all the things that needed to be done, but Blaine had looked at him pleadingly and he hadn't been able to say no.</p><p class="western">That's how they had ended back at Kurt's place. As soon as they arrived, Kurt pulled Blaine into the bathroom so they could wash off the paint and sweat (neither of them could be blamed for a couple of blowjobs under the shower spray that followed since showering with an attractive man was likely to end like that), before they changed into sweatpants and comfy t-shirts. Blaine had almost been waiting for Kurt to take him straight to the bedroom, but instead, he grabbed his hand and guided him back downstairs, where they snuggle on the couch while a movie played in the background on the television.</p><p class="western">Blaine's head was on Kurt's chest, and the constant <em>thumpthumpthump </em>of his heart felt familiar, and so soothing. Kurt's fingers were playing with Blaine's damp curls as he hummed under his breath. He was so relaxed, that Blaine thought, for a moment, that something had shifted between them.</p><p class="western">They didn't do this. They didn't cuddle while they watched TV. They seemed to have a connection only under the sheets that sometimes extended to the kitchen, where they had dinner sometimes before or after they had sex, but that was it. Their relationship was only physical, but this… this intimacy was different, and it shouldn't have felt as natural as it did.</p><p class="western">That unexpected feeling of belonging together, must have been what caused Blaine to talk before he thought about what he was about to say.</p><p class="western">"My mom wants to meet you."</p><p class="western">Kurt stiffened immediately beneath him and Blaine closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, realizing his mistake much too late.</p><p class="western">"I mean…"</p><p class="western">"Your mom." Kurt pulled away, almost peeling Blaine off himself. "Wants to meet me."</p><p class="western">"I… yes," Blaine bit his lip nervously. "I know how that sounds like… it isn't…"</p><p class="western">"Why would she want to do that?" Kurt asked, his eyes wide with suspicion.</p><p class="western">"I might have mentioned you to her," Blaine answered carefully. "She said I was acting different lately, and she started asking questions… I just admitted I've been… <em>seeing </em>someone." He braced himself for whatever Kurt's reply would be to his next question. "Should I… have not mentioned this to her?"</p><p class="western">"Well, I don't… I don't know," Kurt played with the hem of his t-shirt, absently. "Do you usually tell your mother about the guys you sleep with?"</p><p class="western">Blaine ignored the little pang of disappointment. He'd already known things with Kurt weren't serious. It was a casual arrangement. They were good for each other, and that was it. It didn't mean they were… they weren't <em>anything</em>. "No," he admitted in a pathetically small voice.</p><p class="western">Crossing his arms over his chest, Kurt frowned, and Blaine realized he was closing himself off, just like that. "Blaine…"</p><p class="western">"I just… it feels nice having someone to talk about," Blaine hurried to say, not even giving himself time to choose his words wisely. "I know this isn't… I know we aren't… but…" Frustrated, he ran his hand through his hair, messing up his curls even more. "You know when you said this is the closest thing to a relationship you've ever had? Well, it's the closest thing to a relationship I've had in a very long time, too." His hazel eyes looked for Kurt's, but he still wasn't glancing back at him. "So call me an idiot, call me lame, call me whatever you want… but I like this. I like what we have."</p><p class="western">"Blaine…" Kurt said again, but Blaine interrupted, sighing.</p><p class="western">"I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable, and I'm sorry I even mentioned it. I know that isn't something we do," he wanted to reach for Kurt's hand so badly, but he didn't know if he should. "I'll just… I'll tell her that you're busy, or I'll just tell her the truth. I'll tell her that now isn't a good time to have lunch with her or that we…"</p><p class="western">"I'd love to have lunch with her," Kurt blurted out, so suddenly that it surprised them both. Kurt held his breath, eyes still very wide, as if he couldn't believe he had actually said that. "Oh."</p><p class="western">"Oh?" Blaine repeated, dumbly, confused. "You… Kurt, you don't have to do this just because I asked."</p><p class="western">"No, it's okay," Kurt mumbled, finally looking at him. "I can do it. It's just lunch, right? Besides, if she meets me she won't be disappointed when you have to explain why we aren't together…"</p><p class="western">"Kurt," Blaine said softly, reaching for his hand and squeezing his fingers. "Why wouldn't she like you? You're a great guy."</p><p class="western">"That doesn't tend to be a popular opinion," Kurt rolled his eyes, trying to laugh. "But it's okay. It'll be better for you, to get it over with."</p><p class="western">Blaine swallowed. For what seemed to be the hundreth time that day, he had no idea what was happening. He never knew what to expect from Kurt. He wasn't even sure what to say – was it better to talk Kurt out of it, to just avoid the meeting?</p><p class="western">But Blaine wanted it to happen. He wanted it so bad. Right now, the two most important people in his life were his mother and Kurt, and even if Kurt was only waiting to finish his job to say goodbye to him permanently, he wanted to share as much as he could with him.</p><p class="western">He wanted it all, but he would take whatever Kurt was willing to give.</p><p class="western">So he did the only thing he could think of doing. He nodded very slowly, looking Kurt in the eyes, and muttered: "okay."</p><hr/><p class="western">It was hard to tell who was more nervous about having lunch with Heather Anderson. Kurt seemed to be absolutely convinced that the woman would immediately judge him completely unworthy of her son, and Blaine was afraid his mother would say something to make Kurt uncomfortable – and he knew how Kurt reacted when he felt inadequate. He didn't want Kurt to act brusquely defensive the way he had when they first met.</p><p class="western">And, mostly, Blaine wasn't sure why he cared so much about what Kurt and his mother thought of each other. It wasn't like he and Kurt would ever have a real long term relationship or anything… Kurt was going to leave and forget about him as soon as he finished working for Blaine. That much seemed certain.</p><p class="western">At first, Blaine considered inviting them over to his apartment for lunch, but then decided they would be a lot safer in a public place. Maybe that would make Kurt think twice before he said something rude, and maybe that would keep his mother from trying to get into a deeply intimate conversation if there were other people around. So Blaine chose a nice restaurant in Westerville and made reservations.</p><p class="western">"Wait," Kurt said when Blaine told him about it, frozen with a paintbrush halfway to the wall. "I didn't know you wanted to go to a restaurant. I'm not sure I can…"</p><p class="western">"Kurt," Blaine interrupted softly, smiling as reassuringly as he could. "You told me you've never been to Westerville. You don't know anyone there so there's nothing to worry about. It's just lunch with my mom."</p><p class="western">The way Kurt bit his lip and said nothing, but that was enough reason to worry.</p><hr/><p class="western">Blaine made sure to arrive at the restaurant extra early, to avoid any chance that Kurt and his mother would precede him, and they would have to sit together in awkwardly strained silence. Blaine had actually asked Kurt to spend the night at his apartment so they could go together from there, but Kurt had declined because he'd already promised to help his dad at the garage.</p><p class="western">The hostess guided Blaine to their table and declined her offer for a drink as he waited. He looked around. He remembered being there with his parents on a few other occasions since this was one of his mother's favorite restaurants. It was a nice place, but fairly casual. He had chosen it very carefully to not give Kurt any added reason to be uncomfortable.</p><p class="western">Heather walked into the restaurant immediately smiled when she saw Blaine sitting at the table. Blaine stood up to hug her and helped her to her seat.</p><p class="western">"So, honey. Didn't Kurt come with you?" She asked, reaching across the table to grab her son's hand and squeeze gently.</p><p class="western">"No, but I'm sure he'll be here any minute now," Blaine answered, smiling back at her. "Tell me about that project you're doing with Claire Stevens. How is it going?"</p><p class="western">Blaine managed to distract her for a while, asking questions about her latest charity project. Blaine was genuinely interested, since it involved raising funds for the pediatric wing of the local hospital, and Heather and her friends were planning to redecorate the sombre looking rooms into more colorful spaces because it was sad enough that some kids had to live for months and months in a hospital. Blaine promised to help in any way he could, and to make a donation of children's books to create a small library in the recreation room.</p><p class="western">It wasn't until that conversation was over that Blaine glanced down to his watch and realized Kurt was almost half an hour late.</p><p class="western">A sudden rush of panic flooded him. What if Kurt stood him up? What if he decided it wasn't worth his time to meet Blaine's mother because Blaine didn't mean anything to him?</p><p class="western">
  <em>Why would you think you meant anything to him?</em>
</p><p class="western">Heather must have noticed something was wrong, because she checked the time too, and leaned over the table to talk to him quietly. "Why don't you check on him, dear? Just to make sure he didn't get lost?"</p><p class="western">Blaine toyed with his cellphone, unsure. "I don't want to bother him if he's driving," he muttered, and he knew that was a poor excuse. He just didn't want to be rejected by Kurt on the phone.</p><p class="western">Heather frowned. "What's wrong?"</p><p class="western">"Nothing's wrong," he answered too quickly. "He would've called if he had trouble finding the restaurant. He's…" Not knowing how to end that sentence, Blaine fell silent.</p><p class="western">"Blaine," his mother seemed terribly concerned now. "I know you, dear. There's something you're not saying…"</p><p class="western">Blaine swallowed. God, he was so pathetic. He couldn't even get a guy to commit to him enough to show up for a stupid lunch… "Mom, I don't…"</p><p class="western">"Sorry, I'm late!" A breathless voice interrupted, and they both looked up, wide eyed, to find Kurt next to their table, with a hand on his chest. "Oh my god, I thought I would never make it. I'm so sorry I kept you waiting."</p><p class="western">It took a moment for Blaine to realize he wasn't breathing. He had expected Kurt to show up wearing the clothes he always wore when he was in public, but he was so, so pleasantly surprised that he wasn't. Everything about his outfit screamed designer, so Blaine knew he had probably spent a long time making sure everything looked perfect. He was wearing extremely tight white jeans, black shiny shoes, a light blue button up with the sleeves carefully rolled up to his elbows, with a silk scarf around his neck that was a few shades darker. He was stunning, standing there like he had just walked out of one of Blaine's dreams, with his cheeks flushed and his hair styled to look immaculate.</p><p class="western">"You're here…" Blaine mumbled dumbly.</p><p class="western">Kurt looked at him, scrunching his nose in confusion. "Of course I'm here. I said I would be, didn't I?"</p><p class="western">"Yeah…" A slow smile made its way onto Blaine's face, but he remembered to shake off his daze when Kurt looked at him pointedly. "Oh! Yes! Mom, this is Kurt Hummel," he said, standing up and putting a hand on the small of Kurt's back without even thinking how that would look or how Kurt would react to that small display. Heather stood up, too, smiling very brightly. Kurt extended his hand with a smile of his own. "Kurt, this is my mother, Heather."</p><p class="western">"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Anderson," Kurt said politely, extending his hand, which Heather accepted immediately.</p><p class="western">"Please call me Heather, Kurt," she replied happily, before taking her seat again. "And the pleasure's all mine. I was just asking Blaine to call you, we were getting worried."</p><p class="western">"I'm so sorry," he said, biting his lip shyly. "My dad wanted to move some boxes from the basement this morning, so I gave him a hand. He was going to do it himself, but he's had heart problems and he isn't supposed to be lifting anything too heavy." He smiled gently at Blaine when he pulled a chair for him, inviting him to sit. "I didn't think it would take so long."</p><p class="western">"It's okay," Heather said, patting his hand soothingly. "We just wanted to make sure you were finding your way here without trouble."</p><p class="western">"Oh, Blaine was very thorough with his instructions to get here," Kurt shared a quick, playful glance with Blaine. "I had to stop him from drawing me a map, actually."</p><p class="western">Heather chuckled while Blaine looked down at the tablecloth, cheeks blushing slightly. "I didn't want you to get lost…" he admitted in a low voice.</p><p class="western">Kurt placed a hand on his knee under the table, leaning closer to bump their shoulders together. "And that's very sweet of you. Thank you."</p><p class="western">Blaine's stomach did a weird little bounce inside of him. This was different. This really felt different. This felt real.</p><p class="western">He smiled at Kurt warmly and even dared to tangle their fingers together for a moment. He felt the happiest he'd ever felt when Kurt didn't pull away.</p><p class="western">"So, Kurt, tell me a little about you," Heather said, genuinely interested, and that's how the conversation really started.</p><p class="western">Blaine let them talk, hoping his mother wouldn't ask anything that would make Kurt uncomfortable, but mostly just enjoying watching them interact. The two most important people in his life were getting to know each other, and after being so worried, everything was going smoothly.</p><p class="western">Kurt complimented all the changes Blaine had made to the book store and encouraged Heather to go see them herself, since they were almost done. Blaine's heart pounded against his chest at that, remembering how Kurt had said in the beginning that a bookshop was a waste of time. Hearing him talk about it now with something akin to affection made him fall even more in love with him.</p><p class="western">Heather reminisced about other times when they had come to this restaurant when her husband was still alive, mostly when Blaine was still a kid. Kurt inquired about Blaine's childhood, and Heather complied more than willingly, immediately recounting a dozen embarrassing memories to share, making Blaine groan and bury his face againts Kurt's shoulder to hide his reddened cheeks.</p><p class="western">Blaine was endlessly surprised when Kurt dropped a quick kiss to the top of his head. "I bet you were even more adorable then."</p><p class="western">Heather was positively beaming as she watched them. "He really was."</p><p class="western">He stopped caring about how embarrassed he was, and simply looked up at Kurt, hazel eyes full of the kind of hope he hadn't felt in a very long time.</p><p class="western">Blaine couldn't believe Kurt had thought he wouldn't be able to charm his mother, because it was so clear that Heather was half in love with him already. And he also couldn't believe how Kurt was acting in front of her, in front of the entire restaurant. It was so unlike the man he'd gotten to know, that he couldn't help but be perplexed. Still, Blaine decided, he would enjoy it. He didn't know if things would go back to how they'd been so far when he saw Kurt again in Lima. Perhaps it was that town that brought Kurt down, that held him back. Perhaps if he managed to see Kurt away from Lima more often, things could be different…</p><p class="western">After the food was long gone, they ordered dessert and coffee, and Blaine stole a few bites of Kurt's cheesecase before Kurt slapped his hand away and stole some of his chocolate fudge torte in return. They both laughed, as Heather watched them contentedly, eyes shining, with her hands wrapped around her cup.</p><p class="western">"You know, I have to say…" she started, softly, making them turn to look at her, "and Blaine will probably hate me for this…"</p><p class="western">The smile fell from Blaine's lips, a concerned frown replacing it immediately. "Mom…" he muttered, warningly.</p><p class="western">"… that I haven't seen my son as happy as he looks right now in… well, since he was a little boy, actually," Heather continued, ignoring him. She took Kurt's hand and looked in his eyes. "And I suspect it's all because of you, dear."</p><p class="western">"Mom," Blaine repeated, running a hand through his hair nervously. "Please…"</p><p class="western">"No, dear," Heather shook her head. "I'm just saying the truth. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. And I want to thank Kurt, because for so long I've worried about you not being happy, and he's managed to change that in just a matter of weeks…"</p><p class="western">Kurt was still and silent, his hand trapped in Heather's, and Blaine was pretty sure he wasn't even breathing.</p><p class="western">"So thank you, Kurt," she finished, smiling warmly. "For whatever it is you do to make him so happy."</p><p class="western">Blaine tensed. If Kurt was feeling uncomfortable, now would be the moment he would turn to being rude just to get out of it. He braced himself for what might come out of Kurt's lips next – <em>I just fuck him as hard as I can. What your son needed was to get his tight little hole licked open. If you think Blaine looks happy now, you should see him when he has his lips around my cock </em>– knowing that would be the end of one of the best afternoons in Blaine's life.</p><p class="western">But then a shy smile appeared on Kurt's face and he squeezed Heather's hand in return. "I'm not sure if I can take any credit for that…"</p><p class="western">"Of course you can," Heather insisted, before turning to Blaine, pointing at him with a finger and adding, in a severe tone: "keep him around, Blaine. I like him."</p><p class="western">Blaine wasn't sure what had just happened, stunned as he was at the turn of events, so he did the only thing he felt capable of and nodded dumbly.</p><p class="western">Kurt's hand settled on his thigh – warm, real, solid – and their eyes met, hazel burning on blue, and Blaine couldn't tell exactly what had changed, but he felt something shift between them.</p><p class="western">He laced his fingers with Kurt's and prayed Kurt could feel it, too.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Kurt looked up from where he was assembling a bookshelf, dropped the screwdriver, and rushed to help Blaine as he struggled to keep his balance and not drop the box almost slipping from his grasp.</p><p class="western">"Here," he said, taking it from Blaine. "I've got it."</p><p class="western">"Thanks," Blaine smiled. "It's full of dictionaries, so it was a little too heavy."</p><p class="western">"Well, the weight of knowledge isn't something to be taken lightly," Kurt muttered, and then he scrunched his nose. "That was terrible."</p><p class="western">Blaine chuckled. "It's okay, I've heard a lot worse." He pushed the box out of the way of where Kurt was working. The book store was currently a mess with tools everywhere, furniture waiting to be assembled, and lots of boxes of books that Blaine was nearly ready to display. The new armchairs that had arrived earlier that day were in a corner, still covered in protective plastic, and the tiny, colorful tables and chairs for the children's section were all scattered around the room.</p><p class="western">There still was a lot to do, but everything was coming together, and Blaine couldn't help the feeling of excitement bubbling in his stomach.</p><p class="western">Within a few more hours, Kurt finished assembling the furniture and then he helped Blaine place every piece in exactly the perfect place. Blaine carefully considered Kurt's opinions because he certainly knew his decorating principles. They were both sweaty and tired by the time they were done, but Blaine was incredibly delighted with how everything turned out.</p><p class="western">And then he realized Kurt's job was done.</p><p class="western">Everything that needed to be fixed was fixed. Everything that needed to be rebuilt, had been rebuilt. The walls were painted in warm and inviting colors, the floors gleamed. Every bookshelf was in its place, waiting for the stacks of books, each holding new worlds to be discovered. The children's section looked lovely with the decorations Kurt had helped him select online, with models of the solar system and stars hanging over the little tables and chairs…</p><p class="western">The bubbles of excitement Blaine had been feeling in his stomach abruptly popped and disappeared, replaced by a twisting nauseous sensation. He could hear Kurt behind him, replacing his tools in the toolbox, gathering his stuff, getting ready to put an end to his day…</p><p class="western">Getting ready to put an end to his time with Blaine.</p><p class="western">Blaine swallowed. He wasn't sure he could say goodbye without making a fool of himself, letting Kurt see how much he wanted him around.</p><p class="western">"So…" Kurt said after everything was tidied away.</p><p class="western">Blaine took a deep breath. "So."</p><p class="western">"You did it. You have your book store finished just the way you wanted it," Kurt muttered, standing next to him to admire the place, and sharing a little smile with him. "Or, well, you'll have it once you put all those books on the shelves."</p><p class="western">"Yeah," Blaine bit his lip. He was considering tearing everything apart or breaking something that would force them to start over again.</p><p class="western">"When are you planning to open?" Kurt asked conversationally.</p><p class="western">"Probably Monday," Blaine answered quietly.</p><p class="western">"That will give you time to relax a little this weekend, then."</p><p class="western">"Yeah," Blaine said again. He clenched his fists. If Kurt was going to walk away, he'd rather have him do it now. The sooner, the better. Delaying it would only make it worse.</p><p class="western">"I was thinking…" Kurt started in a quiet, hesitant voice. "We should go out and celebrate."</p><p class="western">Blaine, who had been holding his breath, waiting for Kurt to say the opposite of that, turned to look at him, perplexed. "What?"</p><p class="western">"You know, you worked really hard for this, and, well, so did I," Kurt shrugged and rolled his eyes. "We deserve to celebrate a little, don't you think?"</p><p class="western">Blaine's mouth was suddenly very, very dry. "W-what do you suggest?"</p><p class="western">"I haven't had the chance to go out for a drink in a while," Kurt said, thoughtfully. "Are there any places in Westerville that could fix that?"</p><p class="western">Trying to ignore how hard his heart was beating with renewed hope, Blaine nodded. "I know just the place."</p><p class="western">"Good," Kurt gave him a smile that threatened to melt Blaine's insides. "First round's on me."</p><hr/><p class="western">They decided to wait until the next night, since Kurt didn't want to cancel on his family's regular Friday night dinner tradition. Blaine didn't mind – he needed some time to get a grip on his emotions anyway.</p><p class="western">Kurt had an easy out and he hadn't taken it. Blaine wasn't sure if he was making too much of an invitation to get a drink or not, but he couldn't help but feel like maybe things didn't have to end, if maybe Kurt really did still want to be with him. Between how well lunch with his mother had gone the past weekend, and then this… why would Kurt ask him out for drinks if he wasn't interested in seeing him?</p><p class="western">Oh my god, was this a <em>date</em>?</p><p class="western">Blaine stopped fixing his hair in the bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection with wide eyes. So what if it was? Why was he so nervous? He and Kurt had been sort of together for a little while now. He had gotten to know him quite well, and they had already had sex plenty of times. Even if it <em>was </em>a date, he had nothing to worry about, right?</p><p class="western">Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Blaine decided not to think too much into it. He was just going to go out and have fun with Kurt, and that was it. If anything else happened, good or bad, he would deal with it when the time came.</p><hr/><p class="western">Not much later, Blaine pulled the door open to find Kurt standing there, looking as gorgeous as ever, and gaping a little at Blaine.</p><p class="western">"Blaine, you…" he mumbled, eyes raking up and down Blaine's body. "Fuck. You look amazing."</p><p class="western">Blaine felt the kind of warmth in his cheeks that told him he was blushing furiously, but he tried to ignore it. He self-consciously ran his hand down his grey button down. "Uhm. Thank you."</p><p class="western">"I love this look on you," Kurt licked his lips as he took a step forward. His blue eyes fixed on Blaine's tight dark-washed jeans, and he hooked a finger through the belt loop. "You even lost the glasses," he murmured, looking into Blaine's hazel gaze.</p><p class="western">Blaine bit his lip. "Yeah. I don't wear contacts often, because they are kind of uncomfortable after a while, but I thought…"</p><p class="western">Kurt cut him off with a kiss, a passionate, desperate kiss that had Blaine whimpering into his mouth in a matter of seconds. When he pulled away, he simply smirked. "Like I said, you look amazing."</p><p class="western">"O-okay," Blaine managed a smile. He took his time to actually look at Kurt now. "You look amazing, too. Not that it's a surprise though, because you always do."</p><p class="western">Kurt rolled his eyes, but it was obvious he was pleased with the compliment. He was wearing tight black leggings that made Blaine's mouth water at how long and lean they made his legs look, tucked into knee- high boots, with a striped red and white shirt that left part of his shoulders exposed. His smooth, pale skin looked so good, peeking out to tempt him, and it was hard to resist leaning in and start sucking on it. Then he noticed Kurt was also carrying a small duffel bag.</p><p class="western">"Oh," Kurt said, when he realized Blaine was looking at it. "Yeah. I thought I might stay the night? That is, if you don't mind. I wouldn't want to drive all the way back to Lima after I've been drinking…"</p><p class="western">Blaine was the one to interrupt him with a kiss this time. He nibbled on his bottom lip. "If you thought I was going to let you go without asking you to spend the night, you were very, very wrong."</p><p class="western">"Uhm, was I?" Kurt teased, his breath warming Blaine's skin. For a moment, it seemed they were both considering skipping their plans and staying in, but then Kurt sighed dramatically and took a step back to clear his thoughts. "I'd like a tour, please. I'm dying to see what Blaine Anderson's place looks like."</p><p class="western">"Oh, sure, yeah," Blaine said, shaking his head. "That was rude to keep you standing in the doorway. Come on in."</p><p class="western">He took Kurt's bag before he could protest, and showed him around the apartment. Kurt didn't comment on the numerous stacks of books piled on every available surface, but he did smile in a fond way at the sight, making Blaine's heart melt in his chest.</p><p class="western">When they made it into the bedroom, Blaine put the bag on the bed, and Kurt immediately gestured towards his closet, asking silent permission to take a look, with a teasing smile.</p><p class="western">Blaine chuckled. "Go ahead. I'll go tie my bowtie while you're judging me," he said, touching the untied bowtie hanging from his neck.</p><p class="western">"No, wait!" Kurt exclaimed instantly, reaching for his arm to stop him. "You actually look really sexy just like this."</p><p class="western">"Oh, I-I do?" Blaine asked, blinking incredulously.</p><p class="western">Kurt tugged on the ends of the bowtie, his voice sultry and low. "Mm. Very."</p><p class="western">"Well, then," Blaine muttered in a squeaky voice.</p><p class="western">"Your apartment is lovely," Kurt commented, standing <em>so close</em>. "It's so <em>you</em>. I would've known this is where you live even if you hadn't told me."</p><p class="western">"I feel like there's a nerd joke hiding in there," Blaine said thoughtfully.</p><p class="western">"Nope," Kurt whispered, leaning in, very slowly. "No jokes at all. Learn how to accept a compliment, Anderson."</p><p class="western">"Thank you," Blaine managed to say before Kurt was pressing their lips together again.</p><p class="western">Kurt hummed into the kiss and ended it before Blaine really had time to push for more. "If we keep doing this, we're never going out."</p><p class="western">"I don't see a big problem with that," Blaine answered, as he trailed little kisses on Kurt's jaw.</p><p class="western">"I'm failing to see a problem, too, but that doesn't mean I don't want to go out for a while anyway," Kurt mumbled, exposing his neck so Blaine could brush his lips on it, looking for that spot that made Kurt melt into him completely. "I rarely have a chance to go out and have fun, unless you count going to Scandals, and I definitely <em>don't</em>."</p><p class="western">That was enough for Blaine to find his self-control. He knew Kurt couldn't be free in Lima, couldn't do what he wanted, couldn't go out and relax like anyone else, and that's exactly what Blaine wanted to give him tonight. And every night.</p><p class="western">"So," he cleared his throat, but he still sounded hoarse and Kurt smirked. "The place we're going…"</p><p class="western">"Oh, yes!" Kurt said enthusiastically. "What is it like?"</p><p class="western">"I'm not exactly sure," Blaine admitted. "I've never been there, but it looks like a nice bar, and it's walking distance from here, which means we won't have to worry about driving home at the end of the night."</p><p class="western">"That sounds like a good idea," Kurt conceded. He offered his hand to Blaine. "Ready to go?" Blaine didn't hesitate before taking it.</p><hr/><p class="western">The bar Blaine had mentioned was an English style pub called Pints. Despite being crowded, Kurt immediately approved, saying it still managed to look sophisticated even in the semi-darkness with loud music playing.</p><p class="western">Blaine wasn't a fan of crowded places, but he stuck close to Kurt to not lose him in the sea of people around them. They made it to the bar where Kurt ordered a couple of drinks, and they toasted the bookshop's opening, making Blaine grin proudly.</p><p class="western">"By the way," Kurt said, putting his beer down on the bar after taking a sip. "I haven't asked you what you're going to call it!"</p><p class="western">"What I'm going to call it?" Blaine repeated, looking confused.</p><p class="western">"The bookshop," Kurt explained. "It will have a name, won't it?"</p><p class="western">"Yeah, but I haven't decided on one yet," Blaine frowned. He had been thinking about it for a while, but he just couldn't decide.</p><p class="western">"I'm sure you'll find the ideal one," Kurt said, leaning closer and nudging their shoulders together. "You're a little bookworm, so I wouldn't be surprised if you found a place or a character from one of the books you like…"</p><p class="western">"Isn't this when you say I should call it The Shire because I look like a hobbit?" Blaine teased and Kurt laughed.</p><p class="western">"<em>Your </em>words, Anderson, not mine," Kurt retorted playfully. He looked around and noticed a few people were dancing, even though it clearly didn't have a dance floor. He finished his beer and grabbed Blaine's hand. "Hey, let's dance."</p><p class="western">Blaine's eyes went a little wide. He hadn't danced in a very long time, and he hadn't expected Kurt to want to, either. He let him guide him anyway, until they were pressed together tightly amongst the people who were already dancing to some song Blaine had never heard before. Kurt's arms immediately wrapped around his neck, until there wasn't one single inch of him that wasn't against Kurt, feeling the heat of his body and the shift of his muscles as he danced.</p><p class="western">Being close like this was amazing, and somehow felt even more intimate than sex. Kurt was looking into his eyes, with throngs of people around them, pushing them even closer. Blaine could feel sweat on his forehead and his back, but he didn't care. This was fun. It was arousing and liberating, and he never wanted to stop.</p><p class="western">Kurt was teasing him, his lips close to his, brushing against the corner of his mouth without really touching them, so Blaine tried to chase him, to kiss him, but Kurt smiled roguishly and moved slightly farther away, eliciting a little groan of frustration out of him.</p><p class="western">"All this dancing is making me thirsty," Kurt murmured in his ear after a few songs. "Do you want another drink?"</p><p class="western">Honestly, Blaine didn't want to let go of him at all, but he had to admit he needed to drink something. His mouth was dry and pasty at the same time. He nodded.</p><p class="western">Intertwining their fingers, they wove through the thick mass of people to the outskirts of the dancers on the floor. Blaine was left watching everyone dance, and breathing a little easier while Kurt went to the bar, insisting he wanted to get the next round, in spite of Blaine's protests.</p><p class="western">It had only been a couple of minutes when Blaine felt a hand settling on the small of his back. He turned with a smile, expecting to see Kurt there, but blinked in numb shock when it turned out not to be him.</p><p class="western">"Hi, Blaine," Josh said, grinning avidly. "How unexpected to find you here."</p><p class="western">"Oh hi, Josh," Blaine answered him coldly.</p><p class="western">"What's a little librarian like you doing in a place like this?" He asked, leaning a bit closer into his personal space. Blaine suspected he'd already had a few drinks.</p><p class="western">"That's really no concern of yours, is it?" Blaine put his hands on Josh's chest and tried to push him away. "Now please, just leave me alone."</p><p class="western">"Let me buy you a drink," Josh stayed glued to his side, looking at him with hungry eyes.</p><p class="western">"No, thank you, I'm not interested," Blaine said firmly. "And I'm serious. Just leave me alone. I have no interest in talking to you or having a drink with you."</p><p class="western">"Why don't we do some dancing, huh?" Josh muttered, his hands coming to rest on Blaine's shoulders, one of them slowly moving up to cup his cheek. "I know for a fact that you know how to move those hips…"</p><p class="western">"Josh, <em>leave </em>me alone," Blaine said angrily, trying to peel his sweaty hands off him. "I <em>don't </em>want to dance with you!"</p><p class="western">"I've been waiting for you to call me to say you changed your mind," Josh whispered in his ear, before licking at the shell, "so I can fuck you again."</p><p class="western">Blaine's heart pounded so hard against his chest he was sure he would have a heart attack. Josh had somehow backed him against a concrete column and he felt like he couldn't breathe with the bigger man pressing so close to him, so strong, trapping him there…</p><p class="western">"Let go of me, Josh," Blaine exclaimed ineffectually, once again trying to push him away without much success.</p><p class="western">Josh moved even closer, although Blaine hadn't thought that could even be possible. "Come on baby, why don't we…"</p><p class="western">Fingers wrapped around Josh's wrist where he was cupping Blaine's face and yanked him away, almost into a passing waiter. Kurt looked at him as if he was nothing but trash. "Didn't your mother teach you not to touch what isn't yours?" He asked in a brittle ominous tone.</p><p class="western">Blaine suddenly saw how tense Kurt was, broad shoulders and back ramrod straight, staring down at Josh with his lips set in an angry line and his eyes hooded. He had never seen Kurt look like this…</p><p class="western">"And who the hell are you?" Josh snapped, anger taking over him. "Blaine and I were…"</p><p class="western">"There is no Blaine and <em>you</em>," Kurt interrupted, taking an aggressive step closer to him. Blaine put a warning hand on his arm, in case he needed to stop him from doing something crazy, but neither of them took any notice of him. "He was telling you to back off and you're too much of an asshole to listen to what he says."</p><p class="western">Josh laughed raucously, to Blaine's surprise. "Oh god, please tell me you aren't trying to get into his pants. I've already been there, you know, and it's totally not worth the hassle. Little Blaine here can't deal with one night stands, though I agree that he has a delectable ass…"</p><p class="western">Josh's sneer was cut off by Kurt grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him towards him like a rag doll. Blaine had never seen his blue eyes look so coldly hard before. "Why don't you shut the fuck up," he growled, and it wasn't a question. His menacing voice sent a shiver down Blaine's spine. "If you don't know how to do that, I'll be happy to help you," his right hand was already clenched into a fist, and they were starting to attract the attention of the people around them.</p><p class="western">"Kurt, don't," Blaine whispered, putting a pleading hand on his shoulder. Blaine could <em>feel </em>that he was so tense it was almost painful. "It's okay. It's not worth it."</p><p class="western">"It's <em>not </em>okay," Kurt spat angrily. "He has no right to force himself on you like that!"</p><p class="western">"Let's just go," Blaine insisted, because he didn't want Kurt to get in trouble. "He isn't worth wasting our time. Let's go home."</p><p class="western">Kurt didn't seem quite ready to let go of Josh yet. Blaine wrapped his arms around him, gently pulling him until his back was against Blaine's chest, hoping the contact would somehow relax him.</p><p class="western">"Come on, sweetheart," Blaine murmured in his ear, soothingly. "Come on."</p><p class="western">"If you ever touch him again, I will find you…" Kurt said through gritted teeth, leaning into Josh's personal space.</p><p class="western">"Like I would go through this kind of shit for <em>him</em>," Josh answered insolently. "I have better things to do with my time…"</p><p class="western">Kurt pushed him, making Josh stumble a few steps backwards. He glared at him one last time. "You have <em>no </em>fucking idea what you're talking about."</p><p class="western">And just like that, Kurt turned, snaked his arm around Blaine's waist to pull him possessively against his side, and headed towards the exit. People moved aside to let them go, to avoid being the next a target of Kurt's fury.</p><p class="western">The chilly night air raised goosebumps in Blaine's skin when they made it outside, or maybe it was just his reaction setting in. Kurt didn't say a word to him; he simply walked toward Blaine's apartment, his jaw still tense and his arm tightly clasped around him. Blaine shivered and instinctively snuggled closer to him.</p><p class="western">"I'm sorry," he muttered quietly once they turned around the corner, when it seemed like they were a safe distance away from the bar.</p><p class="western">Kurt finally looked at him in bafflement. "Why are <em>you </em>sorry?"</p><p class="western">"I ruined our night out," Blaine answered, sadly. "You told me you don't often go out for fun and then I had to go and…"</p><p class="western">"You didn't do anything wrong," Kurt interrupted firmly. "It was that asshole…"</p><p class="western">"We can go somewhere else if you want," Blaine offered, a little desperately. "We don't have to go home already. There are other bars, we could…"</p><p class="western">"No, it's okay," Kurt stopped on the curb before crossing the street to face Blaine fully. He ran his fingers tenderly through the curls on Blaine's neck. "I just… I just want to be with you right now, okay? Just us."</p><p class="western">Blaine licked his lips and nodded, feeling his apprehension float away on the evening breeze. Yeah, he really liked the way that sounded. "Just us," he echoed.</p><hr/><p class="western">As soon as they made it back to Blaine's apartment, they went straight to the bedroom and peeled each other's clothes off, carefully taking their time to fold them on a chair, occasionally sharing quick pecks and long glances, but barely touching the other's skin. Finally they slipped into bed, gravitating towards the middle, until they were entwined under the blankets, Blaine's head against Kurt's chest, his heart thumping against his ear.</p><p class="western">"I'm sorry if I lost control a little. I didn't mean to make a scene," Kurt murmured in a low voice, fingers brushing the hair on Blaine's arm.</p><p class="western">"Don't apologize, Kurt," Blaine dropped a kiss to his collarbone. "I actually want to thank you. I was getting really nervous because I couldn't push him away…"</p><p class="western">"I hate entitled people like him," Kurt closed his eyes and sighed tiredly. "People who think they have the right to take what isn't theirs, without thinking of the consequences or the feelings of other person."</p><p class="western">"I should've realized what an ass he is," Blaine said, disappointed in himself. "He's a teacher at Dalton…"</p><p class="western">"That asshole is in charge of influencing young minds?! Oh god…" Kurt frowned in distaste.</p><p class="western">"Yeah. He asked me out a bunch of times, and I thought he really cared about me so when I finally agreed to go to dinner with him…" Blaine bit his lip. He really wasn't proud of what had happened with Josh. "Well… we ended up having sex. But… I clearly read a lot more into it than there actually was. It was just another fuck to him, and afterward I felt so… used. Disgusting."</p><p class="western">Kurt wordlessly stroked his hair, clearly not knowing how to soothe Blaine, without knowing that he already was doing an amazing job at that by simply being <em>there</em>. They were silent for a while, enjoying how comfortable they were together.</p><p class="western">"I really hate that he ever touched you," Kurt finally whispered, so quietly that Blaine wasn't sure if he had imagined it or not. He looked up to find Kurt biting his lip, looking very upset. "I just wanted to rip his arms off so he wouldn't ever be able to do it again."</p><p class="western">Blaine stopped breathing for a moment with the sudden realization that Kurt was jealous. He really was jealous of another man touching him. It wasn't a product of his imagination. The way he had acted, the things he had said… they were all because he was jealous. <em>Didn't your mother teach you not to touch what isn't yours? </em>Those words had sounded so possessive…</p><p class="western">"I don't want to be touched by anyone but you," Blaine whispered, shifting slowly so he could hover over him face to face, to look in each other's eyes. "Only you, Kurt. This is the first time it's ever felt right…"</p><p class="western">Kurt surged forward, capturing Blaine's mouth in a deep kiss. Words weren't necessary, because actions spoke louder. They kissed, clinging to each other, tongues moving together, lips sliding slickly, moans being pulled out of the other with every new angle.</p><p class="western">"Touch me," Blaine moaned against Kurt's lips. "Touch me the way only you can, Kurt, please…"</p><p class="western">"<em>Yes</em>," Kurt groaned, his hips bucking up on their own accord. He buried his fingers in Blaine's curls and pulled him back down for another kiss, keeping him in place until they both were breathless, panting into each other's mouth.</p><p class="western">Kurt soon had Blaine exactly where they both wanted him – on his knees, legs spread wide, biting onto the pillow he was holding to stifle the desperate sounds that were trying to break out of him. Kurt kissed a trail down his spine, moving torturously slowly.</p><p class="western">"Is this what you want?" Kurt asked, biting around the dimples above his ass.</p><p class="western">Blaine exhaled loudly. "Anything, Kurt. Anything, as long as it's you."</p><p class="western">"Did you do this with him?" Kurt's question was in a calm voice, but the way the mood seemed to shift in the room let Blaine know the answer was important to him.</p><p class="western">"N-no," he replied, sincerely.</p><p class="western">Kurt hummed in gratification, and then spread Blaine, one hand on each cheek, and looked down at him, taking in the view. "Good," and just like that, he leaned down and licked him where he was so sensitive.</p><p class="western">It felt like Kurt was breaking him in pieces with every swipe of his tongue. Blaine had never done <em>this </em>with anyone, not before Kurt. The first time Kurt's mouth had gone near his entrance like that, he had tensed, suddenly nervous and unsure. It just felt <em>too </em>intimate, a lot more than the other things they'd done, but Blaine drowned in his urges and finally surrendered to let Kurt kiss him in a way no one had ever kissed him before.</p><p class="western">His tongue silky soft and perfect, every flick sending flashes of pleasure and electricity all over his body in the best way. And then afterward, sated together, with their breathing slowing, when the sheets were sweaty and stained with their come, and they were coming down from their orgasms, Blaine had confessed to Kurt, how new and nerve-wracking it felt. Kurt had kissed him slowly and sweet, and smiled. Blaine knew he could never regret giving Kurt something he'd never given to his past boyfriends. Even if this wasn't a <em>real </em>relationship to Kurt, it meant so much to him. It meant everything. It was <em>worth </em>everything.</p><p class="western">Now, Kurt moaned, his lips pressed against the sensitive skin surrounding his hole, Blaine's heady taste already filling his senses. Blaine reacted to the vibration that seemed to travel up his spine, sending shocks through every inch of his body, his arms tightening around the pillow he was whimpering into and clutching to his chest like a lifeline.</p><p class="western">Blaine's cock was hard and leaking already, begging to be touched, but he liked it like this, with Kurt licking his orgasm out of him, making it grow with every brush of his tongue. It was wild and dirty in all the best ways.</p><p class="western">Kurt's fingers spread his cheeks apart as far as he could, making Blaine moan at how tight his skin felt, before another even louder moan was torn from him when Kurt finally thrust his tongue inside, wet and warm, and started fucking him with it, making the filthiest, most sinful noises Blaine had heard in his life.</p><p class="western">It didn't take long – it never did. Just thinking about what Kurt was doing to him was enough to make him come, and adding the sensations, the warmth of Kurt's breath, his saliva making him so wet, it was too much to take.</p><p class="western">His cock pulsed through his release completely untouched, come painting the sheets beneath them. Kurt groaned when he felt Blaine clenching around his tongue, and pushed him through it with a couple of extra deep twisting thrusts. Blaine shook, moaned and spasmed, pleasure becoming the only thing he was capable of feeling, until his twitching muscles couldn't hold him anymore and he collapsed on his own mess, immediately missing the feeling of Kurt's perfect mouth on him.</p><p class="western">Kurt crawled up his body, dropping kisses on random spots of his back until he stopped, lying fully on top of him, teeth scraping the back of his neck. His writhing hips ground his erection against Blaine's ass, fucking between his cheeks, slick with his own spit. It only took a few thrusts for him to come all over Blaine's ass and the small of his back, his breathy, high-pitched wrecked moans almost making Blaine hard again.</p><p class="western">They were silent for a while, until Kurt was able to move again and shifted so he wouldn't crush Blaine, settling next to him. They looked at each other, faces half buried in their pillows, lazy satiated smiles on their lips. They knew they had to get up to clean up, and change the sheets, but for a moment, they allowed themselves not to care about anything and simply stayed there, lost in the other's eyes and feeling like that connection was, at least for now, more than enough.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Blaine carefully opened the door with his hip as quietly as he could to not wake up the beautiful sleeping man in his bed. He couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips as he admired Kurt. His chestnut hair was an absolute mess, the way he was snuggling the pillow was nothing short of adorable, and the peaceful expression on his face made Blaine melt, and wish he would never have to wake him up.</p><p class="western">He placed the tray he was carrying on the nightstand (on top of a pile of books that was taking up most of the space, of course), careful not to spill the coffee, and then climbed back into bed to lean over Kurt. He gently trailed soft kisses down the back of his neck and his shoulders, waiting for a reaction. After a few seconds, Kurt shifted and stirred very slowly.</p><p class="western">"Mm," he hummed, half in protest, half in contentment, as Blaine dropped one more kiss on his temple before pulling away.</p><p class="western">"Good morning, sunshine," Blaine murmured happily. "I have breakfast ready."</p><p class="western">Kurt cracked an eye open and fixed it on Blaine. "Coffee?"</p><p class="western">"Of course," Blaine said, smiling down at him. "Just the way you like it."</p><p class="western">"You're amazing," Kurt mumbled, struggling to sit up. He tried patting his hair down, frowning when he noticed how out of control it was.</p><p class="western">"It doesn't look as bad as you think, stop worrying," Blaine said fondly and reaching for Kurt's coffee. "Plus, it's Sunday. You're allowed to have bedhead today."</p><p class="western">Kurt accepted the cup from Blaine and took a sip, almost moaning when the hot liquid went down his throat. "Oh god."</p><p class="western">"I feel like I should probably be jealous of that coffee," Blaine teased, biting his lip.</p><p class="western">"Maybe," Kurt took another sip. "I mean, it's a pretty <em>damn </em>good coffee."</p><p class="western">Blaine got comfortable next to Kurt before setting the tray between them, carefully. There was scrambled eggs and ham, some bacon, a couple pieces of toast and a small stack of pancakes. "I wasn't sure what you'd want, so I made a little bit of everything."</p><p class="western">"Everything smells really good," Kurt said, reaching for a fork and scooping up some eggs.</p><p class="western">They ate breakfast mostly in silence, comfortable enough with each other to not need words. They even fed each other, laughing at how ridiculous they were. Every single day, they found themselves doing something new, something that brought them even closer, something that sent a thrill down their spines, even though neither of them dared to admit it.</p><p class="western">When the last crumb was gone from the plates, and the last drop of coffee was drained from the cups, Kurt snuggled back down against the pillows, letting out a pleased sigh.</p><p class="western">Blaine chuckled as he moved the tray back to the nighstand. "What are you doing?"</p><p class="western">"Your bed's so warm and cozy," Kurt murmured, nuzzling against the pillow. "I don't think I ever want to leave it."</p><p class="western">Blaine grinned as he leaned down to pepper a few kisses over the curve of Kurt's naked shoulder. "Maybe you should just stay right there forever."</p><p class="western">"Mm, tempting," Kurt smiled lazily, his eyes so blue, so bright. "I wish I could…"</p><p class="western">"You're welcome to visit me and my bed whenever you want," Blaine murmured. He found himself holding his breath, half expecting to be rejected.</p><p class="western">"Just shut up and get in here with me," Kurt replied, lifting the blankets to let Blaine slide in beside him.</p><p class="western">It wasn't a reassurance, but it wasn't a rejection, either, so Blaine took a deep breath, and snuggled against Kurt's warmth without pushing for more.</p><hr/><p class="western">When they woke up the second time (because of course they fell asleep again), Kurt said he needed to leave. Blaine tried to protest, even though he needed to go to the bookshop to finish preparing for the grand opening the next day.</p><p class="western">Kurt kissed his collarbone. "I'm sorry. I really have to go. I promised Carole I'd teach her how to make a soufflé. Her and dad's anniversary is in a few weeks and she's decided to cook him a romantic dinner."</p><p class="western">"That sounds really nice," Blaine said, brushing a loose strand of hair off Kurt's forehead. "Are you sure you can't stay for lunch?" He pouted, hoping that would have the desired effect, but Kurt laughed.</p><p class="western">"No. I'm already late, to be honest," he pecked his lips quickly. "Do you mind if I take a shower before I go?"</p><p class="western">"Of course not. Go ahead," Blaine whispered against his mouth, and then watched him walk to the bathroom, swaying his hips in a way that could only be on purpose.</p><hr/><p class="western">Walking into the book store later that day was quite a shock to Blaine. He'd gotten used to entering a construction site, with tools and cans of paint everywhere, but now he was standing in the place he'd dreamed of his entire life, and it felt completely surreal.</p><p class="western">He put his things down on the counter and immediately began emptying the last boxes that still held books, putting them in the right sections.</p><p class="western">He had no idea where he'd gotten the courage to finally do this, but he was so glad he'd actually done it. It felt like everything was different now. He felt more confident, like anything was possible. He had done something worthwhile with the money his father had left him. He'd learned that no dream was pointless, no matter how big or small it was. And, besides all that, he'd met Kurt. This bookshop, this place he'd pictured so many times since he was a kid, had brought him Kurt. He had no idea where they would be in a year, a month, a week, but right now… he was happy. Blaine Anderson was happy, and that wasn't something he'd gotten to say very often.</p><p class="western">It all came down to having enough courage to take that first step, and then everything else had followed, every single thing that made him smile now.</p><p class="western">Maybe, just maybe, he could find enough courage to actually ask Kurt out, officially. One date, just one, would be more than enough to see if Kurt was willing to consider something a little bit more real with him.</p><p class="western">Blaine wanted it all: he wanted to go home to Kurt every night, to wake up next to him every morning, to call him his man; he wanted to be Kurt's man. He wanted to be there to comfort him if he had a bad day, to be able to call him at random times just to tell him how much he meant to him, how much he loved him, how much better he made Blaine's life. He wanted a relationship. He just needed to know if Kurt was going to be in it with him.</p><p class="western"><em>Courage</em>, Blaine thought.</p><hr/><p class="western">On Monday, Blaine couldn't stop smiling. He was tired, since he had stayed very late at the bookshop putting the final touches on everything, but he couldn't deny how happy he was. When he flipped the sign on the door to <em>open</em>, he felt a bubbly sensation in his stomach. <em>This was it, he had done it</em>.</p><p class="western">Most of the people that came into the bookshop came out of curiosity and didn't buy anything, but Blaine was still very charming to everyone, just happy to have people show some interest. His smile grew impossibly wide when two twin girls ran to the children's section and began looking through a book with ballerinas in it, exclaiming at the pretty pictures, until their father told them it was time to go. The girls pouted until the man caved and bought the book. Blaine relished at the sound of the register when he rang in the very first sale.</p><p class="western">By mid-afternoon, things were a lot quieter. He dusted and tidied the shelves, just to keep busy. The cute little bell he had placed above the door chimed while he was shelving a cook book in its spot. He looked over his shoulder, surprised to see a huge bouquet of orange lilies walking into the shop.</p><p class="western">"Uhm" he muttered, confused. "Hello?"</p><p class="western">He wasn't expecting Kurt's head to peek from behind the flowers. "Hey, you. Happy opening day."</p><p class="western">"Kurt!" He gasped. "Oh my god, what are you doing here?"</p><p class="western">"Did you really think I wouldn't come by to wish you luck on your first day?" Kurt rolled his eyes. "These are for you."</p><p class="western">"Kurt," he repeated softly, this time with a dreamy sigh, as he accepted the bouquet. "They're beautiful. Thank you so much. You didn't have to…"</p><p class="western">"I wanted to," Kurt interrupted, and Blaine was sure he was fighting a blush. "So, how is it going?"</p><p class="western">"A little slow right now, but I don't mind," Blaine said, lips stretched into the biggest smile they had worn all day, as he found a perfect place for the flowers on the counter. He buried his nose in them, taking in the scent, hoping Kurt couldn't hear his heart trying to pound its way out of his chest.</p><p class="western">"I love the Alice in Wonderland thing," Kurt commented, pointing back to the window over his shoulder. "It looks even better than I imagined."</p><p class="western">"Thanks," Blaine answered. "It took a lot of time, but it was worth it. And I wouldn't have been able to do it without the dress you made for her…"</p><p class="western">"Oh, shush," Kurt rolled his eyes again and leaned against the counter to look at Blaine. "You look really happy."</p><p class="western">"I am," Blaine nodded. "This is all I've ever wanted."</p><p class="western">Kurt reached across the counter, put his hand on Blaine's and squeezed for just a second before letting go. "Good. I'm glad." For a few seconds, they did nothing but look into the other's eyes, and then Kurt inhaled sharply, as if he was tearing himself away from a daze. "Uhm. So. I noticed you found a name for the shop?"</p><p class="western">Blaine missed the warmth of Kurt's hand on his already. "I did," he grinned.</p><p class="western">"<em>Courage</em>?" Kurt frowned, confused. "It sounds… unusual."</p><p class="western">"It's what I need," Blaine replied, quietly. "What I needed. What took me to where I am right now." His hazel eyes were intent on Kurt. "Everyone needs to find courage in their lives, Kurt. I found it in books for many, many years, and now I have it here, in this place…"</p><p class="western">In the short silence that followed, Blaine made up his mind. It was time. It was time to ask Kurt out, for real. It was time to take that jump.</p><p class="western">"I…"</p><p class="western">"So…"</p><p class="western">Kurt bit his lip and looked down when they both spoke at the same time. Blaine chuckled nervously and motioned Kurt to go first.</p><p class="western">"I wanted to…" Kurt continued, stopping to take a deep breath. "I wanted to ask you if you'd like to have dinner with us on Friday."</p><p class="western">Blaine blinked, shock etched onto his face. "Us?"</p><p class="western">"My family," Kurt clarified. "I told you about our Friday night dinners…"</p><p class="western">"Yeah, yeah, I remember…" Blaine didn't know what to say. Was this really happening?</p><p class="western">"I understand if you don't want to," Kurt hurried to say, and the clearly visible embarrassment on his face made Blaine realize how hard it had been for Kurt to scale his walls and ask him this. "It's fine. I just thought…"</p><p class="western">"I'd love to," Blaine interrupted before Kurt could get any redder. He looked up at him with wide gray eyes. "Maybe I can bring dessert or…"</p><p class="western">"No, no, it's okay," Kurt said a little breathlessly, his smile breaking through. "I'll pick you up on Friday when you close?"</p><p class="western">Blaine was sure he had lit up like a Christmas tree, but he didn't care. He simply nodded, knowing it was obvious how excited he was.</p><p class="western">"Great," Kurt cleared his throat and stood straighter. "I have to go now. I need to look into a possible new job."</p><p class="western">"Okay," Blaine smiled. "Good luck with that. And thanks so much for the flowers. They're really beautiful, Kurt."</p><p class="western">"No problem. See you later, Blaine," and just like that, he walked out of the shop, slipping his Wayfarers on, taking Blaine's heart with him.</p><hr/><p class="western">Later that same day, Heather came to see the bookshop for the first time. She waited until Blaine was done with a customer and then pulled him into her arms, full of joy.</p><p class="western">"Oh, Blaine. Congratulations, dear. This is absolutely wonderful..."</p><p class="western">"Thanks, Mom," Blaine beamed.</p><p class="western">"And the Alice window! That's so original; I loved it!" Heather cupped his face in her hands, watching him with bright eyes. "I'm so proud of you, Blaine. You dreamed of something, and you worked so hard to make it happen."</p><p class="western">Warmth spread all through Blaine. "Mom..."</p><p class="western">"Oh, look at these precious flowers!" She muttered, moving towards the counter.</p><p class="western">"Yeah, those are from Kurt," the smile on Blaine's face was so big that he could feel his muscles stretching almost painfully. "He stopped by earlier today."</p><p class="western">"How is he?" Heather asked, an edge of teasing in her voice.</p><p class="western">"He's great. We're having dinner with his family on Friday," Blaine couldn't help but bounce excitedly a little on his feet.</p><p class="western">"So this is getting serious, then!" Heather exclaimed, delighted. "Fantastic, Blaine. He's such a lovely man. I'm happy you two found each other."</p><p class="western">Blaine caressed one of the soft orange petals of the lilies, blush high in his cheeks and his eyes full of love.</p><p class="western">He was happy he'd found Kurt, too.</p><hr/><p class="western">On Friday night, Kurt arrived at Courage after Blaine had already closed. He was sweeping the floors and putting some books back when he heard the knock on the glass door. Kurt waved at him and Blaine hurried to let him in.</p><p class="western">"Hey," he said, smiling. "Come in. I just need to finish cleaning up and then we can go."</p><p class="western">"Do you need any help?" Kurt asked wearily. Blaine's smile faltered a little when he noticed how tired Kurt sounded.</p><p class="western">"No, it's fine. You can take a seat, if you want," he gestured towards one of the armchairs. When Kurt dropped heavily into it, Blaine frowned, concerned. "Kurt... are you okay?"</p><p class="western">"Yeah, I'm okay," he answered halfheartedly. At Blaine's insistent stare, he huffed out a sigh. "Fine. Maybe I'm not <em>so </em>okay. I actually think you've spoiled me for all my future employers, you know..."</p><p class="western">Blaine took the seat next to Kurt's and leaned to rest his hand on his knee. "What happened?"</p><p class="western">"I'm rebuilding a bathroom for this old guy, Mr. Donovan," Kurt explained. "He still remembers me from my high school years, when I used to parade around town in my designer outfits. Apparently the only reason he hired me and not, I quote, <em>a real man</em>, is because at least with a fag like me he doesn't have to worry about leaving his wife in the house while I'm working and he has to go out."</p><p class="western">Blaine gasped, incredulous. "Kurt..."</p><p class="western">"Oh, it's not that bad," Kurt made a vaguely dismissive hand gesture. "I suppose I've heard a lot worse."</p><p class="western">"But that doesn't make it right!" Blaine exclaimed, anger seething through his veins. "Did he really call you a... a... <em>that</em>?"</p><p class="western">"What do you want me to do about it, Blaine?" Kurt said in a tired tone, tilting his head against the back of the armchair. "This is the way things are. If I want to work..."</p><p class="western">"It isn't fair," Blaine insisted, trying to hold back the tears prickling in his eyes. He couldn't bear all the abuse people threw at Kurt. "Kurt... you don't deserve that treatment."</p><p class="western">"Hey, no..." Kurt's eyes went wide and he moved to kneel in front of him. He cupped his cheeks in his hands and wiped at the few rebellious tears that had managed to roll down. "Don't cry, Blaine."</p><p class="western">"I'm sorry," Blaine sniffed. "It's just... you're such a wonderful person. I don't understand why everyone can't see it..."</p><p class="western">"Baby..." Kurt whispered feelingly, and Blaine startled at the endearment, a rush of warmth and love coursing through him. "I don't care what those assholes think. I don't care if they talk trash behind my back. They're not worth getting upset about. It gets exhausting sometimes, yes, I admit, but this is the life I have to live, this is the best I can do with it, and I'm not going to give them the satisfaction of letting them affect me in any way."</p><p class="western">Blaine was kissing him before he realized what he was doing, hands grabbing at Kurt's shirt. He didn't care that they were in plain sight of anyone walking by the shop, he just cared about being as close as possible to this man, this man that drove him crazy, that made him feel things he'd never felt before.</p><p class="western">Kurt whimpered into his mouth in surprise, but then he kissed him back eagerly, for once forgetting about possibly being seen. His fingers were suddenly tangled in Blaine's curls, pulling him in to kiss him deeper.</p><p class="western">When they finally pulled away, Kurt's lips looked so thoroughly kissed – red and a little swollen – that Blaine was sure that no matter who looked at them, they'd know Kurt had been kissed within an inch of his life. Blaine found himself hoping his lips looked just as bruised, so no one could doubt who was responsible.</p><p class="western">Kurt's voice was a little hoarse when he spoke. They were still close, his hands in Blaine's hair, their bodies angled towards each other. "We're going to be late for dinner."</p><p class="western">"Dinner?" Blaine repeated, slightly dazed, staring at his mouth.</p><p class="western">"With my parents," Kurt replied.</p><p class="western">"Oh," Blaine's eyes went wide. "Your parents."</p><p class="western">Kurt couldn't help the laugh that escaped him then. "Yes, Blaine. Dinner with my parents. That's why I'm here, remember?"</p><p class="western">"Sort of," Blaine swallowed, trying to force his brain to work again. He cleared his throat. "Uhm. Let me get my stuff and turn the lights off, then. I'll finish the rest of the cleaning tomorrow before I open."</p><p class="western">Blaine tried to stand up, but Kurt's hand reached for his, stopping him. He looked up at him. "Will you stay at my place tonight?"</p><p class="western">A smile tugged at Blaine's lips. He leaned down for a quick peck of reassurance. "Of course."</p><p class="western">After he had locked the door, they went out to his car. Kurt had walked there so they could drive together. He gave him directions as Blaine told him about his day at the bookshop. It was comfortable, easy, so far from their interactions when they had first met. If someone had told Blaine he'd end up falling in love with Kurt Hummel, the most hostile man he'd ever met, he would've laughed in derision.</p><p class="western">The Hummel's house looked homey and cozy even from the outside. Blaine parked the car in the driveway, careful to leave space for another vehicle, since Kurt said his dad's truck wasn't there yet, which meant he still wasn't home from the garage. Kurt gestured for Blaine to put his satchel down by the door when they went inside. They could already smell delicious food in the making.</p><p class="western">Blaine followed Kurt closely. He saw a woman, with short brown hair and an apron tied around her, working at the counter. The kitchen looked well-lived in, with the wooden table, pictures stuck to the fridge door with big magnets, the cluttered countertops where endless family meals had been prepared, and the stove sizzling with whatever it was the woman was cooking.</p><p class="western">"Hi, Carole," Kurt said as they entered. She looked over her shoulder with a big welcoming grin at the sound of his voice.</p><p class="western">"Hi, honey! You're just on time to help me with these vegetables!" She put the knife down and crossed the kitchen to envelope Kurt in a warm hug, before turning to Blaine. "And you must be Blaine!"</p><p class="western">"Yes, ma'am, nice to..." Blaine began, only to get his hand crushed between their bodies when Carole enveloped him in a hug, too.</p><p class="western">"Warning: she's a hugger," Kurt smirked at him, as he opened a cabinet and tied on an apron. "Carole, let him breathe, please."</p><p class="western">"Oh, I'm sorry," she stepped back, blushing a little, but still smiling happily. "It's just so nice to have you here at last! We've been bugging Kurt to bring you for dinner for a long time now!"</p><p class="western">"Well, I couldn't say no," Blaine said politely. "After those cookies you sent me – which were delicious, by the way. Thank you so much – refusing a dinner invitation would've been a crime."</p><p class="western">"He's here just for the food," Kurt teased as he started chopping red peppers. He pointed at him with the knife. "But if you want to eat, you'll have to help. So unless you prefer to wash the dishes later, I'd suggest you grab an apron and come over here to chop this leek."</p><p class="western">"I'd love to help," Blaine said, still very polite, as he accepted the green apron Carole handed him.</p><p class="western">"I like him, Kurt," Carole said, not bothering to lower her voice, as she nudged her stepson with her hip. "He's handsome <em>and </em>a gentleman." Blaine blushed and muttered something under his breath that went completely unnoticed by the other two. "Though I wouldn't expect you to date anyone who wasn't."</p><p class="western">Blaine's head snapped in Kurt's direction, looking at him with wide eyes. He expected Kurt to say they weren't actually dating. They were... <em>friends</em>. Sort of. Friends who had lots of passionate sex and acted like a couple when they were alone. So he just waited for the words, and prepared himself for the pain of rejection.</p><p class="western">Kurt's blue eyes fixed on him appraisingly. The silence extended for a few more endless seconds. He licked his lips, gave Blaine an almost imperceptible smile, and then went back to chopping. "You know my taste is impeccable, Carole."</p><p class="western">She laughed and patted his shoulder affectionately, not realizing Blaine was having an emotional meltdown next to them, a million bubbles of happiness bursting inside him.</p><hr/><p class="western">The delicious scent of roasted chicken in the oven was filling their senses and making them all incredibly hungry by the time the front door opened again and the sound of voices carried down the hall. It was only a few seconds later that Burt walked into the kitchen, closely followed by a young, very tall man that</p><p class="western">Blaine recognized from Kurt's pictures as his stepbrother Finn, and a woman around their age, with long auburn hair and big green eyes.</p><p class="western">"Hey everyone!" Burt said, as he leaned to kiss his wife's cheek. "Something smells good. Hi, Blaine. Nice to see you again."</p><p class="western">Blaine quickly wiped his hands clean in the apron before shaking the hand Burt was offering. "Nice to see you again, too, Mr. Hummel. Thank you for having me."</p><p class="western">"No problem at all, kid." Burt gave him a pat on the back. Kurt immediately went to stand next to him after kissing his father's cheek.</p><p class="western">"Blaine, this is my brother Finn, and his fiancé, Carly," Kurt introduced them, his warm hand settled on the small of Blaine's back as he shook their hands as well.</p><p class="western">"Hi, nice to meet ya, man," Finn said with a goofy smile.</p><p class="western">Carly smiled at him, too. "It's great to finally meet you. Coming to Friday night dinner for the first time can be a little overwhelming, but I can assure you, you'll survive very nicely."</p><p class="western">"Thank you," Blaine smiled back. "That is very reassuring. Though I'm doing quite well so far, right, Kurt?" He turned to Kurt with a hopeful expression on his face.</p><p class="western">Kurt rolled his eyes fondly. "Of course you are, silly." To everyone's surprise, especially Blaine, he gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, before turning back to the counter, where they had been working on making brownies for dessert.</p><p class="western">Blaine knew he was blushing furiously, and he tried to hide it by turning to the counter to help, but his eyes found Burt's anyway. He was pleasantly surprised and reassured, when he saw that the older man was smiling at him in a way that could only mean he was happy with what he was watching.</p><p class="western">Blaine was sure this night couldn't be any better.</p><hr/><p class="western">Dinner was loud. There were several conversations going on at the same time. Carole and Carly were talking about their wedding plans, which Carly explained to Blaine would be in the winter (<em>I just love that season so much. The snow is so romantic, and we're going to Vermont for our honeymoon, so it'll be perfect!</em>); Kurt was arguing with his father about Burt not getting enough exercise ("<em>the doctor said you needed regular workouts, Dad. Just give it a try; Carole said she'd do it with you. Maybe you could try some yoga…?" "I'm not doing yoga, Kurt. I would look ridiculous."</em>), and Finn was mostly busy eating, but he managed to interject a few comments into both conversations between bites.</p><p class="western">Blaine felt okay with just watching and listening. This family had an amazing dynamic, so different from his. He tried to stop himself from imagining dinners in the future, with his mother as an added guest, discussing very similar topics – <em>"Autumn is Kurt's favorite season, so we're having the wedding then." "And Blaine's always wanted a honeymoon in Europe, so that's where we're going. Maybe a few weeks in Italy?" </em>– He caught himself but it was far too late. The ideas were already entrenched in his mind.</p><p class="western">They all made sure to include him in their conversations, whether asking for his opinion about something or inquiring about his life. Burt was particularly interested in the book store, and Blaine was more than happy to talk about it.</p><p class="western">"I think I'll stop by at some point next week," Carole said with a smile. "I've been meaning to get a new cook book. The ones I own are so outdated…"</p><p class="western">Blaine beamed. "I'm sure we can find one that you'll like."</p><p class="western">Kurt's hand found his under the table and gave it a gentle squeeze. Everything felt so perfect.</p><hr/><p class="western">Apparently, it was Finn and Carly's turn to do the dishes that week, so the rest of the family stayed in the dining room, chatting amicably while they took the dishes into the kitchen.</p><p class="western">"Everything was wonderful, Mrs. Hummel," Blaine said.</p><p class="western">"Oh, honey, please just call me Carole," she answered with a wink. "And I hope you still have room for those brownies…"</p><p class="western">"I don't think I could say no," Blaine nodded politely.</p><p class="western">"Be careful or Kurt will try to get you to sign up for some weird gym class, too," Burt groused, leaning back in his chair comfortably.</p><p class="western">"Blaine is perfectly healthy and at his ideal weight," Kurt protested. "You've got heart problems…"</p><p class="western">"It was only <em>once</em>," Burt insisted, rolling his eyes.</p><p class="western">"<em>Almost </em>twice. Remember that scare last year? Because I do. Vividly," Kurt said stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest.</p><p class="western">"You know he's taking good care of himself, Kurt," Carole intervened, in a soothing voice. "He's eating properly and doing everything the doctor told him to…"</p><p class="western">"Except for exercising…" Kurt muttered, as Carole went into the kitchen to get the dessert.</p><p class="western">"That was only a suggestion," Burt huffed. "And if you want me to do exercise, I have a few boxes in the basement that I need to…"</p><p class="western">"No way," Kurt interrupted, already standing up. "No heavy lifting. What do you need done?"</p><p class="western">"I'm not a kid, Kurt," Burt said, frowning, displeased.</p><p class="western">"That's exactly why you need to take care of yourself," Kurt replied, and now he sounded almost pleading. "Please, Dad. Do it for me."</p><p class="western">Burt sighed. It was obvious he wasn't able to say no to his son. "Fine. I need…" he lowered his voice and checked to make sure Carole didn't come back while he was speaking. "I need the box with our home movies. I know she has a bunch from before we were married, and I have all of those from when you were a kid, and the wedding, and all of your Glee competitions. I want to put something together for our anniversary. Like a movie of our lives, or something."</p><p class="western">"Oh, Dad," Kurt's eyes were suddenly full of tears. Blaine hadn't suspected how much of a romantic he was until that moment. "That is a beautiful idea. I'll go get them for you right away."</p><p class="western">"Thanks, kid," Burt nodded with a grin. "I'll go distract her. You take Blaine with you so you're done before she gets back with dessert."</p><p class="western">"Sure," Kurt stood up and tugged on Blaine's hand so he would follow him, while Burt trailed into the kitchen.</p><p class="western">The basement was small, and as soon as they entered, Blaine knew that if Kurt had no idea where those tapes were, they would spend the rest of the night looking for them. The place was packed with boxes, some in a metal rack against the back wall, others piled around the room. Some were labeled, and some weren't. The first box they opened was full of old car parts that Burt obviously didn't need to keep at the garage.</p><p class="western">"I think it'll be faster if we search separately," Kurt said with a sigh. "I keep telling them that they need to get rid of half of this stuff. They're turning into hoarders."</p><p class="western">"Okay, I'll start on this side, you on that one, and we'll find them in no time," Blaine smiled encouragingly.</p><p class="western">They started searching, commenting on the things they found every now and then. Kurt didn't make the job easy: every time he found something that he didn't think was worth keeping, he put it aside to talk Carole into throwing it away or donating it to charity. Most of those things were Finn's older clothes – "they aren't even good enough for charity. Look at this, Blaine! Who would wear this vest?" – or old magazines.</p><p class="western">Blaine also found an interesting variety of things, from Burt and Carole's wedding tableware, to old photo albums that Kurt set aside for Burt, in case he wanted to use them for his project, too.</p><p class="western">But then Blaine opened a box that had no label. It seemed like someone had simply thrown it there in a rush, as if they only wanted to get rid of it. He didn't know what he was expecting to find, but it was certainly not this.</p><p class="western">It was full of drawings – sketches, actually. They could only be Kurt's. Blaine would've known that even without the little black KH at the bottom of every one of them. They were his designs: dresses, jackets, suits, even shoes, all very detailed, lines forming figures in a way that seemed effortlessly but that he knew must have taken Kurt long hours. There were clothes for men, and clothes for women, and Blaine could easily imagine those drawings turned into actual clothes, fabrics that would wrap someone's body perfectly. He could see those clothes displayed in the most expensive stores in New York, with Kurt's name on the label. He gazed at the pages in his hands, unable to believe that all this talent was going to waste. Instead Kurt spent his days knocking down walls, painting and renovating bathrooms for the homophobic people in this town that had no idea what a gem Kurt truly was.</p><p class="western">Blaine had never been a terribly impulsive guy. He usually liked to think before he acted. But now… with these sketches in his hands, knowing Kurt's potential… he didn't think. He simply grabbed as many as he could without being noticed and shoved them under his clothes, hoping Kurt was distracted enough not to realize before he could safely stash them in his satchel.</p><p class="western">"Oh, here they are!" Kurt exclaimed, triumphantly. "One would think they would keep our most precious family memories in a more accessible place." He grabbed the box and turned to Blaine, who did his best not to look guilty. "I'll take them to my old room, you go back to the dining room before Carole gets suspicious."</p><p class="western">Blaine nodded, briefly diverting to the hallway immediately as he heard Kurt go upstairs. He put the sketches in his satchel and took a deep breath. He had no idea what he was planning to do with them, but he had promised himself he'd find a way to help Kurt. He would've been an idiot not to take this chance.</p><p class="western">Blaine allowed himself a moment to erase any traces of furtive guilt from his face, before he went back to the dining room to join the conversation.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Kurt and Blaine began spending more time together, though they never actually discussed it. Kurt would sometimes show up at the bookshop out of the blue, to share coffee and bagels from the Lima Bean. Other times, Blaine stayed the night at Kurt's place, which happened at least twice a week. Mostly, though, it meant Kurt went home with Blaine after he closed on Saturday, and they didn't come back to Lima until Monday morning. Blaine could tell that Kurt liked to get away to his apartment on the weekends. He was happy to provide Kurt with a haven when he couldn't deal with Lima anymore.</p><p class="western">Today was one of those coffee and bagel mornings. Blaine smiled up at Kurt from behind the counter when he pushed the door open with his hip, making the bell sound gently above him.</p><p class="western">"Good morning," Blaine said happily.</p><p class="western">Kurt carefully placed their breakfast on the counter. "Good morning to you, too."</p><p class="western">They didn't kiss there in the store. That was the only thing that bothered Blaine about these mornings. But he couldn't blame Kurt, or push him. He wanted to respect his boundaries, and kissing in broad daylight when anyone could walk in was definitely off limits.</p><p class="western">So the gentle brush of fingers when Blaine reached for his breakfast had to suffice.</p><p class="western">"They didn't have any bagels left, so I brought you a cinnamon roll," Kurt informed him as he opened the paper bag.</p><p class="western">"Oh, that's even better," Blaine beamed, as he sipped his coffee, finding it was exactly as he liked it. He watched Kurt over the edge of his cup. "You look a little tired," he commented when he lowered it.</p><p class="western">Kurt shrugged. "I just want to finish the Donovan's bathroom and get the hell out of there."</p><p class="western">"Have they said anything unpleasant again?" Blaine asked, frowning.</p><p class="western">"Not directly," Kurt sipped his coffee and sighed. "But I found a pamphlet from their church in my toolbox yesterday. Mrs. Donovan must have put it there when I wasn't looking. It says something like <em>follow God's </em><em>six steps to cure your homosexuality</em>," he made air quotes, visibly annoyed. "And I'm pretty sure she sprayed holy water on me when I was leaving."</p><p class="western">"Oh Kurt..." Blaine reached across the counter and put his hand on his forearm.</p><p class="western">"It's fine," Kurt shrugged again. "I was thinking about leaving pictures of gay porn all over their house for them to find once I'm paid for the job."</p><p class="western">Blaine chuckled. "You're awful."</p><p class="western">"They're worse," Kurt muttered. "But you know why I won't do it? Because, unlike them, I'm not the kind of guy who goes around trying to shove my beliefs down people's throats. They can have their warped ideas of heaven, hell, sinners, and whatever. I get to suck dick, and that's always a lot more fun than praying."</p><p class="western">Blaine almost choked on his coffee.</p><p class="western">Kurt smirked teasingly and pushed the paper bag towards him. "Eat your cinnamon roll, honey." It was really, really hard to not kiss him right then.</p><hr/><p class="western">On the following Saturday, Blaine went home on his own. Kurt had promised Carly he would go shopping with her to see if they could find the perfect wedding dress. Blaine had to bite his tongue to stop himself from suggesting Kurt design it himself. He knew it wouldn't lead to anything good.</p><p class="western">So instead, he drove back from Lima after closing the shop, and stopped in the grocery store to buy everything he needed to cook dinner for Kurt when he finally made it to his apartment. He wandered around the aisles, considering different options, loading his cart with mushrooms, pasta, steak and lettuce, not sure what he was in the mood for. He made a little detour for more lube and condoms, blushing a little. It was amazing how quickly they ran through those...</p><p class="western">Before going home, he made another stop at one of their favorite bakeries, and bought a huge slice of cheesecake for dessert to surprise Kurt.</p><p class="western">Blaine loved doing things to please Kurt, even if they were just little details. He loved being the one to put a smile on his face, and make him forget a long day at a job he hated. Cooking his favorite meals, giving him a massage, drawing him a bath, Blaine was eager to do anything to make Kurt feel a little better at the end of the day.</p><p class="western">He just really, really yearned to see Kurt happy.</p><p class="western">Blaine put the groceries away, deciding to make a mushroom, ham, and cheese quiche. It was a recipe he'd seen in one of the cook books at the book store, while scanning through it when he was bored. The picture had made his mouth water, so he was going to give it a shot.</p><p class="western">He made the crust himself – Kurt would be so <em>proud </em>– before he moved on to slicing mushrooms, careful to cut them the perfect size. That's when he heard the knock on the door.</p><p class="western">"It's open!" He shouted.</p><p class="western">"Hello?" Kurt's voice travelled through the apartment.</p><p class="western">"Kitchen!" Blaine called back.</p><p class="western">Kurt walked into the kitchen in his socks. "Hey."</p><p class="western">"Hey," Blaine grinned at him from where he was working at the counter. "How was shopping?"</p><p class="western">"Very successful," Kurt answered, leaning against the doorway. "We went to several stores, but we managed to find three she really liked. Now she has to narrow down the options to choose one. I can't put into words how happy I am that I don't have to make that decision, because they were all exquisitely beautiful. I almost had to elbow a woman so she wouldn't take one of them."</p><p class="western">"Sounds a little intense," Blaine commented, amused.</p><p class="western">"It was. And my boots were killing me. I couldn't wait to take them off," he pouted at Blaine in a way that shouldn't have been allowed. "Would you be willing to give me a foot rub later?"</p><p class="western">"Of course," Blaine answered without hesitation. "But I think you need to get more comfortable first. I'll be putting this in the oven in five minutes, so you still have time for a shower, if you want."</p><p class="western">"That sounds heavenly," Kurt walked further into the kitchen until he was standing behind Blaine. He wrapped his arms around his waist and nuzzled his jaw until Blaine turned his head enough for him to kiss him. "I'll go put my bag in your bedroom and then I'll shower quickly."</p><p class="western">"Okay," Blaine pecked him again before he pulled away. "Go relax." Kurt smiled contentedly, and then disappeared down the hall.</p><p class="western">Blaine couldn't wipe the grin off his face as he listened to Kurt move around in his apartment, his lips still tingling with the vestiges of their kiss. Blaine had never before been entirely happy with his life, but tonight, as he cooked dinner for the man he was in love with, who was going to stay the night, and would fall asleep cuddling with, he was the happiest man on earth.</p><p class="western">The bubble popped far too soon. "What's this?"</p><p class="western">Blaine spun around, surprised at the sharp tone in Kurt's voice, only to find him glaring at him with a few sheets of paper clutched in his hands. "What, sweetheart?"</p><p class="western">"This," Kurt repeated, showing him the drawings, the sketches with their perfect lines Blaine had stolen from the Hummels' basement.</p><p class="western">Kurt had found the sketches. "I..."</p><p class="western">"What's this doing in your house?" Kurt snapped, harshly. "And why are there multiple copies of each one? What the hell are you <em>doing </em>with them, Blaine?"</p><p class="western">Blaine had seen Kurt in many different moods since they had first met. This wasn't the first time he'd seen him so angry, but it was the first time that anger was strictly directed at Blaine, and it chilled him to his bones.</p><p class="western">He swallowed past the lump in his throat and tried his best to explain. "I-I found them in your Dad's basement when we were looking for the home videos, and they were so incredibly beautiful. I didn't think, I just took them, Kurt. I'm sorry."</p><p class="western">"That still doesn't answer my question," Kurt spat at him, his eyes glaring, their icy blue stabbing him painfully. "You had no right to take them, Blaine. These are my private property."</p><p class="western">"I know they are," Blaine answered quietly. "And it was never my intention to overstep. I just..."</p><p class="western">"Why did you make copies of them?" Kurt interrupted impatiently.</p><p class="western">"I sent them with applications for jobs at fashion houses, pretending to be you," Blaine blurted out, heart racing in his chest.</p><p class="western">The silence that followed was filled with foreboding. Blaine watched with a sense of dread as Kurt's eyes went wide, his mouth dropped agape, and his fingers clenched the sheets of paper.</p><p class="western">"You did <em>what</em>?" He breathed out. Nothing in Blaine's life had ever sounded more frightening than that strangled whisper, so full of wrath that it shook.</p><p class="western">"You don't deserve to be stuck here, living a life you hate," Blaine declared quickly, hoping Kurt would let him explain before – <em>if </em>– he exploded. "You're so incredibly talented, Kurt. There's no reason for you to deal with the crap you get here every day. You should be thriving there, being the amazing, unique person you are, not hiding your creative talent behind a toolbelt and pretending that you're someone different..."</p><p class="western">"You had no right..." Kurt managed to say, his whole body shaking with fury.</p><p class="western">"No, maybe I didn't," Blaine continued, taking a hesitant step towards him. "But I just want you to be happy, and we both know you'll never be happy like this. I knew you wouldn't ever do it yourself, I knew you've given up, so I decided to do it myself. Your designs are <em>amazing</em>, Kurt. <em>That's </em>what you should be doing every day. You don't belong here."</p><p class="western">Kurt was panting shallowly, his whole body vibrating with barely contained emotions.</p><p class="western">"You might have given up, Kurt, but not me. I haven't given up on you at all," Blaine said, eyes wet with tears he refused to cry.</p><p class="western">"Well," Kurt murmured, and Blaine couldn't read anything from that single word. "This is me giving up on <em>you</em>, Blaine Anderson."</p><p class="western">He turned around, clearly ready to storm out of the apartment. Blaine reacted immediately, running after him and blocking his way out.</p><p class="western">"Wait, no..."</p><p class="western">"You might think you're doing me a favor, but you're an idiot," Kurt exclaimed, his voice rising. "You believe in all those stupid fairy tales, as if life could be something wonderful. You want me to pin my hopes and dreams on a magical wish come true, but for what? So I end up even more devastated than I already am? I'm tired, Blaine, and all I want is to get through my days without finding yet another reason to hate everything and everyone." He put a finger against Blaine's chest, stabbing him with it with every word. "I thought <em>you </em>were different. I thought <em>you </em>would understand. I let you in, I gave you a chance, and in return you did... <em>this</em>?"</p><p class="western">"Kurt, I only did it because I thought it would be best for you to..."</p><p class="western">"You did it because this damaged version of me isn't good enough for you," Kurt replied furiously. "It was all I had to offer and you didn't like it. Well, you know what? Fuck you, Blaine. I'm the best I know how to be to survive in this place, and that didn't mean a goddamn thing to you..."</p><p class="western">"I just wanted to help!" Blaine said desperately.</p><p class="western">"I never asked for your help!" Kurt shouted. "For fucking once, I was actually happy to wake up in the morning, and you had to go and re-open every damn healed over wound..."</p><p class="western">"That's not what I wanted..." Blaine murmured weakly, defeated.</p><p class="western">"Well, it's what you've done. Thank you for reminding me that all I'm good for is fixing bathrooms for a homophobic asshole, and that the only thing I can expect out of my life is for it to last long enough that my Dad doesn't have to bury another member of his family."</p><p class="western">"Kurt..." Blaine was helplessly crying now, a huge lump stuck in his throat, chest throbbing with pain.</p><p class="western">"I don't ever want to see you again, Blaine," Kurt said, his face dead white and his eyes completely expressionless. "I'm done with you."</p><p class="western">"Kurt!" Blaine tried to stop him, but Kurt was strong, determined and profoundly wounded, so pushing past a distraught Blaine didn't take much effort. He slammed the door shut behind him, walking out of Blaine's life.</p><p class="western">Blaine slumped feebly against the wall, shocked by how his night had gone from blissfully happy to wretchedly miserable so quickly. He buried his fingers in his hair, tugging at it in despair, wishing he could figure out how to fix what he knew was only damaged, and Kurt was convinced was broken beyond repair.</p><hr/><p class="western">Blaine spent the next few days numbly staring with his eyes alternately fixed to the book store's door, to his cellphone, or driving the streets of Lima, hoping to see Kurt. But Kurt was nowhere to be seen, because he didn't want Blaine to find him. He'd said it very clearly; he was done with him.</p><p class="western">But Blaine wasn't done with Kurt. Not yet and not ever.</p><hr/><p class="western">A bouquet of white and pink tulips was delivered to Kurt's house. There was a very simple note in it: <em>I'm sorry. – B.</em></p><hr/><p class="western">Blaine had never preferred to sleep on one side of the bed, but now he realized he always left the right side empty, as if he was waiting for Kurt to slip in next to him during the night.</p><p class="western">The right side of the bed was always cold and empty in the morning.</p><hr/><p class="western">One Thursday night Blaine went to one of the best delis in Lima to get some dinner. He hadn't been in the mood for cooking - he always ended up cooking enough for two, and that was just too sad.</p><p class="western">He was waiting to pick up his order when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He turned around in surprise and found Carole's gentle eyes on him.</p><p class="western">"Hi, Blaine."</p><p class="western">"Mrs. Hummel! Hi!" He exclaimed in surprise. He really wasn't expecting to see her there. He hoped she didn't notice how dishveled he looked – he didn't take enough time in the mornings to properly gel his hair, and he was sure the dark marks under his eyes were easily visible from behind his glasses.</p><p class="western">"How are you doing, honey?" Carole asked, her sympathetic tone of voice only confirming that of course she'd noticed.</p><p class="western">"I'm doing okay," he said a little hesitantly, not sure how much she knew. And then, before he could help himself: "how's Kurt?"</p><p class="western">A little, sad smile tugged at Carole's lips. "Well, he says he's fine too..." Clearly, she didn't believe either of them.</p><p class="western">Blaine nodded. He knew what she meant. Kurt always said he was fine, even when he wasn't, when he hadn't really been fine in a very, very long time.</p><p class="western">"Look, Blaine..." Carole took a step towards him, so only he could hear her. "He didn't tell us what happened. He just suddenly stopped talking about you and ignored every question we asked him. But you were good for him and you seemed so good together. Burt and I were so relieved and so happy when you two found each other. You were exactly what Kurt needed after so many years of being miserable and lonely." She sighed. "I know we don't know each other very well, but it's easy to tell that you care about him deeply. So I'm asking you... no matter what happened, please, don't give up and let him go. He needs you. When he was with you, he was the most alive I've seen him in years. I hate to see him going back to walking around, so... so faded and… <em>lifeless</em>, as if he's just killing time."</p><p class="western">They called her name to pick up the food she'd ordered before Blaine could find something coherent to say. She grabbed the bag with the containers and then turned briefly back to Blaine.</p><p class="western">"It was really nice seeing you, Blaine," she said sweetly. "I hope I'll see you again."</p><p class="western">"Me too, Mrs. Hummel," he whispered, a little hopelessly. "Me too."</p><p class="western">Carole squeezed his shoulder before leaving, giving him one last smile that conveyed encouragement and desperation.</p><p class="western">Blaine's name was called then, but he'd lost his appetite. He drove back home – the songs playing on the radio haunting him. Kurt wasn't there to fight him on which station to listen to, or to hum along to the ones he liked.</p><hr/><p class="western">"Dear, I'm worried about you."</p><p class="western">Blaine blinked at his mother, sitting across the table from him, frowning. He tried to laugh it off. "Mom, you're always worried about me."</p><p class="western">"I'm not are-you-eating-enough worried. I'm not even are-you-sure-you-aren't-coming-down-with-a-cold worried. I'm truly, truly worried, Blaine." Heather sighed and put her menu down.</p><p class="western">Blaine scanned the options for lunch a lot more intently. "I'm okay."</p><p class="western">"You're <em>not</em>. You flinch every time I mention Kurt, for example," Heather pointed out, and when Blaine did exactly that, she added, "like right now. See?"</p><p class="western">"Fine," Blaine conceded, tiredly. "But I don't want to talk about it."</p><p class="western">"Did you two break up?" She asked, ignoring him.</p><p class="western">Blaine closed his eyes briefly. "I haven't heard from him in almost two weeks," he snapped. "So if that means we broke up, then I guess the answer is yes."</p><p class="western">"Oh, Blaine," she said sadly. "What happened?"</p><p class="western">Blaine's eyes were suddenly filling with tears. "Can we please, <em>please </em>just not talk about it?"</p><p class="western">"Darling, no offense, but I think talking about it is exactly what you need," she patted his hand gently.</p><p class="western">Blaine wiped his tears as discretely as he could. "I can't. I just can't."</p><p class="western">"Alright," she whispered in a soothing voice. "We don't have to talk now. But I'm here whenever you're ready, Blaine."</p><p class="western">But Blaine didn't want to talk about losing Kurt. He just wanted to get him back.</p><hr/><p class="western">There were a million ways to be distracted, and Blaine was sure he'd tried them all already, each and every one of them unsuccessfully. He couldn't stop his mind from revisiting every moment he'd spent with Kurt, to counting the time without him (two weeks, one day, fourteen hours and twenty one minutes). The book store had memories of Kurt in every inch of it: Kurt getting hurt when that part of the ceiling fell on him, kissing him so desperately against the wall that wasn't there anymore, the Alice dress still in the window… everything, absolutely everything, was permeated with Kurt.</p><p class="western">He had just finished dusting the shelves for the thousandth time, and decided to check his emails (also for the thousandth time, as if he'd <em>ever </em>received emails from interesting people), when it happened.</p><p class="western">Blaine's heart stilled for a moment, as he stared at the words on his screen.</p><hr/><p class="western">Blaine forced himself to wait until closing time, which would, hopefully, be long enough to calm down a little.</p><p class="western">It was Friday. There was only one place he could go to.</p><p class="western">It was drizzling gently when he closed the book store and got into his car. The drive was short, silent and tense. Seeing the familiar two-story house in front of him, its driveway crowded with cars, made him feel a rush of longing; longing for its warm, its company, its welcoming embrace.</p><p class="western">When he stood on the porch, damp from the light rain, he could hear their voices. He wished he could just open the door, go in and join them, and forget about how miserable he'd been for the past weeks, and show him how to smile again. Instead, he knocked on the white wood gently, his left hand, clenching an envelope.</p><p class="western">The door opened only seconds later, even before Blaine had time to take a deep breath. It was Carole, standing there with a hesitant smile as he watched him, eyes wide in surprise.</p><p class="western">"Blaine! Hi, dear."</p><p class="western">Blaine cleared his throat. "Hi. I'm sorry for interrupting your family dinner night, but I just really need to talk to Kurt."</p><p class="western">Carole glanced quickly behind her and into the house, before turning back to him with a sigh. "I'm not sure today's a good day, Blaine. He's in a really terrible mood."</p><p class="western">"I don't care," Blaine replied quietly. "This can't wait."</p><p class="western">Biting her lip, Carole nodded. "Kurt!" She called out, her eyes still on Blaine.</p><p class="western">"Yes?" His voice came from somewhere else, and Blaine could've cried in relief. Even hearing his voice was enough to lighten all the sadness he'd felt since the last time they saw each other.</p><p class="western">Carole put a hand on Blaine's arm briefly. "Good luck," she whispered, and then disappeared back into the house.</p><p class="western">The three seconds it took Kurt to replace her at the door were full of anxiety, but Blaine knew he had to risk it. He knew that even if Kurt resented him interfering, at least he had tried.</p><p class="western">Kurt's face was already crossly bitter when he stood in front of Blaine, but it morphed into something darker when he saw who was there. "Why would you come here, Blaine?"</p><p class="western">"I know you're really mad at me," Blaine started quickly so Kurt wouldn't leave before he said what he had to say. "I understand that and I know apologizing didn't change anything, but I'm here to apologize again... this time for apologizing in the first place," he swallowed the lump in his throat and continued. "I'm not sorry at all for believing in you, in your talent, in your ability to be the man you're destined to be. I'm not sorry I wanted to help you..."</p><p class="western">"I don't want to hear any more about it, Blaine, I already told you that..." Kurt managed to interject, harshly.</p><p class="western">"Well, you'll only have to listen for another minute," Blaine interrupted, fighting the urge to adjust his glasses on his nose. He wouldn't show how nervous he was. "Because <em>you </em>may be done with dreaming, but I can dream well enough for both of us." He raised his left hand, extending the white, slightly damp and wrinkled envelope in Kurt's direction.</p><p class="western">"What's that?" Kurt asked, disdain dripping from his words.</p><p class="western"><em>It's an act, it's all an act</em>, Blaine reminded himself. He knew Kurt. He knew this was his defense mechanism. "Just open it," Blaine said, thrusting the envelope towards him more insistently until Kurt finally took it.</p><p class="western">It seemed like an eternity passed while he ripped it open and extracted the one page email that Blaine had printed at the bookshop. Blaine waited with bated breath as he scanned it.</p><p class="western">"What's this mean?" Kurt asked again, but now he was shaking, and he looked up at Blaine with wide eyes.</p><p class="western">"Read it to me, Kurt," Blaine prompted him in a calm voice.</p><p class="western">"D-dear Mr. Hummel," he started. "We've received your application and we are very impressed with your portfolio. Y-your understanding of fashion and your passion for design are clearly demonstrated in the unique designs you included." Kurt paused to look at Blaine incredulously, reminding himself to breathe, and then continued reading. "V-vogue dot com would like to offer you a fashion intern position... oh my god, <em>Blaine</em>!"</p><p class="western">"Your dreams aren't dead yet," Blaine managed to say in a choked voice.</p><p class="western">"I-I don't... <em>how</em>?" Kurt looked back at the printed email hopefully and then back at Blaine in confusion.</p><p class="western">"I told you. Even I could see you're ridiculously talented. We just had to get your designs out there and now the people at Vogue know that, too," Blaine smiled encouragingly at him. "If you keep reading that... They want you in New York in two weeks, so that should almost give you enough time to get ready..."</p><p class="western">"I'm so sorry, Blaine," Kurt said, his eyes shiny with tears. "Look at what you did, and I was such an asshole to you..."</p><p class="western">"So, you're really going?" Blaine bit his lip, hoping for a positive answer.</p><p class="western">"Of course I'm going!" Kurt exclaimed, and now he was really crying, choking on his sobs. "Oh my god, Blaine..." he took a shaky breath and then reached for Blaine, to pull him into his arms. He hid his face on the crook of Blaine's neck, wetting the skin there with his tears. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you..."</p><p class="western">"You deserve it," Blaine whispered softly into his hair. "You deserve everything."</p><p class="western">"I'm so sorry, Blaine," Kurt sobbed, clinging to him desperately. "I'm so sorry."</p><p class="western">"Ssh, it's okay," Blaine soothed, rubbing his back. "It's okay, sweetheart. I know."</p><p class="western">"I've missed you so much," Kurt pressed even closer to him. "So much."</p><p class="western">"I missed you, too," Blaine answered, and then his words sunk in.</p><p class="western">Just because Kurt was holding him now, didn't mean the pain would end. Kurt was leaving, heading for a brilliant future in New York. He was finally going to have the life he'd dreamed of and be happy… and Blaine would be back here, still missing him.</p><p class="western">Kurt was leaving, and Blaine was staying. Kurt's dream was just beginning, but Blaine's dream was ending.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Kurt's tears soaked through the collar of Blaine's polo, wrapped in each other's arms, with Blaine's hands pressed firmly into the small of Kurt's back.</p><p class="western">"I feel so bad," Kurt whispered.</p><p class="western">Blaine pulled away only enough to look him in the eyes. "Why? You should be happy!"</p><p class="western">"I am, about the job," Kurt nodded as he wiped his tears quickly. "But the way I treated you..."</p><p class="western">"You were scared," Blaine replied, brushing a strand of Kurt's hair off his forehead. "I get that life hasn't been very easy for you, and that you didn't want to risk getting hurt again."</p><p class="western">"I was still unfair to you. I'm so sorry, Blaine, I can't say it enough..." He bit his lip and blushed. "Thank you for the flowers, by the way. They were beautiful."</p><p class="western">Blaine beamed. "I'm glad you liked them."</p><p class="western">"I did."</p><p class="western">They stared at each other, hardly believing they were back in the other's arms again. The look of happiness on Kurt's face made Blaine's heart flutter as he looked at him adoringly. All he wanted was to make Kurt happy... and he'd apparently succeeded.</p><p class="western">"Are you two going to stay out there all night or are you going to join us for dinner?" A gruff voice said, and they both turned to find Burt standing at the door.</p><p class="western">Kurt smiled at his father, making the older man raise his eyebrows in surprise at the sudden change in Kurt's mood. "I think we're joining you for dinner. Right, Blaine?" His eyes turned to him hopefully as he waited for Blaine's answer.</p><p class="western">Blaine's hand travelled down Kurt's arm until it found his hand, to twine their fingers together. "I'd love to."</p><p class="western">Kurt sighed in relief, and pulled him into the house.</p><hr/><p class="western">Dinner was filled with light conversation, which Kurt and Blaine didn't really participate in. They were too busy gazing at each other, having a silent conversation of their own, and finding every excuse possible to touch each other, as if they needed to make sure the man next to them was real.</p><p class="western">It wasn't until they were having dessert that Kurt cleared his throat. Everyone went immediately silent, as if they had been waiting for him to say something. Blaine squeezed his hand under the table.</p><p class="western">"I don't really know how to say this… except to just say it," he started, looking around the table nervously. "But I'm moving back to New York in a couple of weeks. I got an internship offer from Vogue..."</p><p class="western">Before he could finish, the entire family erupted in cheers and screams of excitement. Kurt laughed and cried at the same time as Burt jumped from his seat and pulled him into a bone-crashing hug.</p><p class="western">"Kurt, honey, how did this happen?" Carole asked, biting back tears of happiness. "You didn't tell us you were thinking of going back to the city!"</p><p class="western">"Actually," Kurt said from against his father's shoulder. He pulled away from his arms slightly so he could look at the others as well. "I didn't do anything," his eyes found Blaine's, so warm, full of gratitude. "It was all because of Blaine."</p><p class="western">Those words were enough for Burt to let go of his son, and two seconds later, Blaine found himself being pulled abruptly into a hug just as tight as the one he'd shared with Kurt. Blaine was surprised and only managed to pat the man on the back while Burt squeezed him.</p><p class="western">"Thank you," Burt murmured softly, for only Blaine to hear, in a hoarse voice. "Thank you for saving my boy."</p><p class="western">"Well, come and tell us all the details!" Carly said, eagerly.</p><p class="western">"Wait, wait, I have a bottle of champagne in the kitchen, let me get it!" Carole exclaimed.</p><p class="western">Kurt laughed as he grabbed Blaine's arm and tugged him against his side, snuggling against him. "All this fuss isn't necessary."</p><p class="western">"Like hell it isn't," Burt asserted, his eyes shiny with emotion, with a huge smile. "We need to celebrate. Go get it, Carole."</p><p class="western">As everyone else got back to their seats, Blaine placed a kiss on Kurt's temple. "Let them celebrate. They're happy for you."</p><p class="western">Kurt's smile turned a little wicked. "I have another kind of celebration in mind. Stay at my place tonight?" He practically purred the invitation into Blaine's ear.</p><p class="western">Blaine simply nodded, as he tried not to imagine the different ways that Kurt might show his gratitude, considering they were with Kurt's family. This was neither the time nor the place for a hard on.</p><hr/><p class="western">A hand on his shoulder stopped Blaine from getting into his car to follow Kurt to his house. He turned and found Burt standing there, looking somber.</p><p class="western">"I didn't want to bring it up in front of Kurt, but..." He eyed Blaine quietly. "You have a minute?"</p><p class="western">"Of course," Blaine nodded, and pushed his car door closed, all of his attention focused on the older man.</p><p class="western">Burt removed his cap and ran a hand down his bald head, looking down at his feet. He sighed before he looked back up at Blaine. "Well, I noticed Kurt didn't mention you were going with him..."</p><p class="western">Blaine could feel himself getting cold, as if his heart was turning into ice. "Yeah, that's probably because I'm not."</p><p class="western">"So you did all of this for him, even though you can't go along?" Burt seemed a little incredulous. Blaine had to remind himself that he was talking to a man who had seen his son repeatedly mistreated. "Because if you think you two can manage to keep a relationship going with occasional visits... Blaine, he won't come back. He <em>can't </em>come back."</p><p class="western">Blaine did his best to swallow the bitter taste in his mouth. "I know that. And I hope he doesn't come back, because he doesn't belong here. This place has nothing to offer him..."</p><p class="western">"But..." Burt seemed confused.</p><p class="western">"When you love someone the way I love your son, Mr. Hummel," Blaine murmured softly, "his happiness is the only thing that really matters."</p><p class="western">Burt inhaled sharply, clearly not expecting Blaine's simple sincerity, reflected in his hazel eyes. He cleared his throat and once again put his heavy hand on Blaine's shoulder. "I have no idea what you and Kurt will decide to do. I don't know if these are the last days you two might have to be together. I don't know much, buddy, and I admit that. But I can tell you this much: I hope that you and Kurt can find a way to make this thing work, because no one's ever made Kurt as happy as you've made him. No one's ever cared for him like you do, and mostly, I never thought I'd ever meet a guy who I would consider worthy of my son. But you are perfect for him, Blaine, and I hope neither of you lets go, at least not without a fight."</p><p class="western">"Mr. Hummel..." Blaine croaked, feeling his chest tighten with overwhelming emotions.</p><p class="western">"Don't keep him waiting any more, buddy," he patted him on the back as he turned to go back into the house. "Make the most of the time you have left."</p><p class="western">Blaine watched him walk up the driveway, hand tightly gripping the door handle behind him. What Burt had just said meant the world to him, but hearing that now, when things were about to end... was devastating. Because Blaine was convinced that he and Kurt were made to be together, but that didn't matter, not anymore. Kurt's dreams needed a bigger stage than Lima.</p><hr/><p class="western">His arms were wrapped tightly around Kurt's neck, the sweaty skin of their chests sliding together with every movement. Blaine's thighs were burning slightly, a delicious heat spreading through his muscles. Their soft moans echoed against the walls, and their eyes were locked together, hazel fire melting icy blue.</p><p class="western">Blaine pushed himself up, and then back down to fuck himself onto Kurt's cock, whimpering at how deliciously it filled him, how good the stretch felt. Kurt's hands were gripping his waist, back leaning against the headboard, thrusting up very slowly to meet him, into Blaine's sweet, slick heat.</p><p class="western">"God, I love this," Kurt groaned, fingers digging into Blaine's flesh.</p><p class="western">"That's because you don't have to do all the work," Blaine bit his lower lip, already red and swollen from all the other times he'd done the same.</p><p class="western">"I don't mind doing all the work," Kurt replied, thrusting up sharply as if to prove his point. "I just really like watching you ride me."</p><p class="western">Blaine moaned. "Oh god, Kurt..."</p><p class="western">Words were left behind as they both sped up, hurtling towards their release. Blaine's legs were screaming at him in protest. He was sure he'd be able to feel the after-effects for days, but he didn't care. He loved this.</p><p class="western">It didn't take much for their orgasms to shake them to their core. Blaine's cock remained untouched between their bodies, his come painting their chests and stomachs. He could feel Kurt pulsing deep inside him. Every twitch sunk him even further in his own pleasure, as he dropped his head down into the crook of Kurt's shoulder, and slowly rocked to a stop.</p><p class="western">Kurt buried his fingers on Blaine's loose curls, tugging until he could crash their lips together. They kissed desperately, passionately, open-mouthed, with a sense of urgency unlike any of the other times they'd been together. It was because they were on a countdown now. How many more times did they have left to share this? How many more frantic kisses, heated touches, and murmured words of desire?</p><p class="western">Kurt moved to pull out, but Blaine held on to him. "No, wait." He licked his lips. "Can you stay there a little longer? If it's not uncomfortable, I mean..."</p><p class="western">Kurt kissed his forehead. "Of course. As long as you need me to."</p><p class="western">Silently, Blaine snuggled against his chest, Kurt's subtle shifting causing shivers all over him, because of how sensitive he was inside. He clung to Kurt, feeling his pulse with his fingertips, how alive, how <em>there </em>he was. Blaine almost felt like crying.</p><p class="western">As if he could sense Blaine's distress, Kurt peppered him with soft little kisses everywhere he could reach, as he rubbed circles on the small of his back.</p><p class="western">His voice was tentative, almost scared, when he finally spoke up. "I... Blaine, I..." he swallowed, and then took a deep breath, as he gathered his courage. "Come with me. Please, Blaine. Come with me to New York."</p><p class="western">Blaine moved so quickly that his neck cracked when he looked at Kurt, gaping. He hadn't been expecting that, and he certainly hadn't been expecting the sudden flash of hope going through him at the idea that maybe his dreams weren't doomed, not yet.</p><p class="western">But reality intruded. Blaine realized that his rising hopes were vain, because he couldn't just follow Kurt.</p><p class="western">"I can't," he said with a shaky voice. "I can't, Kurt. I have the book store, and my mom... I couldn't leave her here, all alone, after she lost my father." He cupped Kurt's cheek and rested their foreheads together. "Trust me, I'd go with you without a second thought, if I could. But..."</p><p class="western">"You're right," Kurt interrupted, closing his eyes to hide his feelings. "It was silly of me to ask you that. I'm sorry."</p><p class="western">Blaine wanted to protest that it wasn't silly, that he was thrilled he'd even asked. But he didn't, because he knew that words would fail him, because he could feel the tears forming and the distance starting, and it was breaking him into pieces that he had to let Kurt go.</p><p class="western">He didn't have any other choice.</p><hr/><p class="western">Kurt and Blaine became absolutely inseparable, spending every possible minute together. Every day, as soon as they were done with work, they went to Kurt's house and took advantage of every second they had left. They didn't really talk again, about what was about to happen; about being separated by hundreds of miles, into two separate worlds; about what it would mean. They didn't want to taint the time they had left with sad conversations. Every moment needed to be treasured.</p><p class="western">Burt and Carole joined them during some of those evenings, to help Kurt prepare to leave Lima. Kurt was sorting everything he owned into four categories: things to take, things to sell, things to donate, and things Burt refused to part with because they held precious memories.</p><p class="western">There was a fifth category of personal objects that couldn't be thrown away, to be stored in the already crowded Hummel basement. Burt would sell Kurt's truck and his house, and send the money to get him started in his new life in the city.</p><p class="western">It was devastating to see the house gradually empty, stripped of everything that made it Kurt's. Sometimes Blaine would walk into a room, as the sudden realization that this was actually happening struck him with a painful punch to the gut.</p><p class="western">Heather was adamant about cancelling their usual lunch dates so Blaine wouldn't have to be apart from Kurt. She assured him she was fine, busy with her charity projects. Blaine believed her, and thanked her for allowing him to make the most of these last few days. He was so grateful for his mother, to have someone to hold him once Kurt left, when he was completely heartbroken.</p><p class="western">He just wished he didn't have to be heartbroken at all.</p><hr/><p class="western">Blaine was irked at having to have to step on a stool to reach the higher shelves at the bookshop. He was carefully balancing his weight and reshelving the books he was holding, when the door opened with the clear, soft chime of the bell. He looked over his shoulder and smiled automatically, the way he did whenever Kurt was around.</p><p class="western">"Hey! I'll be there in a minute!" He called happily.</p><p class="western">"Do you need any help?" Kurt offered, coming closer.</p><p class="western">"I hope you're not fishing for a height challenged joke…" Blaine inserted the last two books and then accepted Kurt's hand to climb down the stool with huff. It was only then that he noticed that Kurt was wearing his designer clothes at a time and place where anyone in town could see him, for the first time since they had met. The silk scarf wrapped around his neck made his eyes look especially grey. "You look amazing," Blaine offered sincerely.</p><p class="western">"Thank you," Kurt beamed at him brightly. "I just came from the Donovan's house," he added, as he followed Blaine back to the counter. "I told him I quit."</p><p class="western">Blaine put the stool behind the counter and then leaned across it, closer to Kurt. "I'm sure he wasn't very happy about that."</p><p class="western">"I told him he could shove his stupid job up his ass," Kurt shrugged. "And oh my god, it felt good."</p><p class="western">"I'm proud of you," Blaine squeezed his hand gently and then cleared his throat and pretended he was arranging some papers on the counter. "So, uhm, what are you going to do with all the unexpected free time you have now, huh?"</p><p class="western">This time Kurt reached for his hand. When Blaine looked up, he was suddenly serious, his lips set in a straight line, his gaze a little doubtful, almost scared. "I think we need to talk."</p><p class="western">Blaine definitely didn't like the sound of that, but he was aware that they had been avoiding the conversation they needed to have for a few days now. He swallowed, and nodded, intertwining their fingers to guide Kurt to the reading area, so they could sit in the armchairs and be more comfortable.</p><p class="western">"Look, Blaine, I…" Kurt started, not really looking at him.</p><p class="western">"I think I know what you're going to say," Blaine interrupted, unable to stop himself. He tried bravely to smile. He really did. Kurt studied him quietly, waiting. "And I get it. It's fine. We're going our different ways, so it's only logical that you don't want to see me anymore and…"</p><p class="western">"Blaine," Kurt gasped in shock. He stood up from his armchair and sat on Blaine's lap, startling him. Kurt had never behaved like this before, especially not where anyone could walk in and see him. "Yes, we're going our different ways, but… I don't want to stop seeing you. I know we can't… I'm not stupid. I know long distance relationships are complicated. And we've never even labeled what we are… but I don't want to lose you. You're… you're the best friend I've ever had."</p><p class="western">The words should've sounded comforting, and warm, but they felt like a stab in the heart to Blaine. Friends. That's all they were. Everything they could be.</p><p class="western">"You… you're my best friend, too," Blaine said, and he knew the smile on his face was faltering, but he hoped Kurt wouldn't notice.</p><p class="western">But of course, he did.</p><p class="western">"You know you're so much more than that…" Kurt rested their foreheads together and sighed forlornly. "So much more, Blaine, but I… I'm leaving, and you can't come with me."</p><p class="western">Blaine bit his lip, wishing he could change his reply. "I know."</p><p class="western">"How could this, <em>us</em>, work when we're going to live in different states for who knows how long? You won't leave your life to go to New York, and I can't stay here, knowing I have a chance to make it there. Staying in Lima forever never was my plan."</p><p class="western">"So…" Blaine looked into Kurt's eyes, not hiding his feelings anymore, because Kurt obviously felt the same. "We'll make the most out of these last days… and then we'll say goodbye."</p><p class="western">"No, I hope not," Kurt's hands found their way to lace his fingers behind Blaine's neck. "I was hoping we could still be friends? Maybe talk every now and then? E-mail? I mean it when I say I don't want to lose you, Blaine. I'll keep you any way I can."</p><p class="western">Blaine cupped Kurt's cheek. "I'll keep you any way I can, too. I feel like I've just found you and now I'm losing you… that shouldn't even be an option." He could already feel the tears forming in his eyes, but this wasn't the time to cry. Not yet. He nuzzled against Kurt's temple, forcing himself to smile. "But let's just… let's try to be happy. Let's enjoy what we have, and let's be together. We'll deal with that when it's time, okay?"</p><p class="western">"Are you sure you don't want to talk more about it?" Kurt asked hesitantly.</p><p class="western">"What is there to talk about? Once you get on your plane to New York, I'll stay here, and I'll always remain your friend… for as long as you'll have me," Blaine whispered earnestly.</p><p class="western">Kurt pulled him in for a brief, sweet kiss. "Right. We still have… we still have a few days." "We'll make them count."</p><p class="western">Kurt managed to curl his lips up into a trembling smile, and murmured against Blaine's mouth, just before going in for a second kiss, much deeper, much sweeter this time: "We'll make them count."</p><hr/><p class="western">It was the last Friday night dinner Kurt would have with his family, before he left. Blaine wanted to skip this one, to let Kurt enjoy some quality family time, but Kurt had tugged on his hand, kissed his lips softly and told him he <em>wanted </em>him there. So how could Blaine resist?</p><p class="western">Blaine sat next to him during dinner, feeling him sitting close one last time, and did his best to keep his eyes on his food so no one would notice how badly he wanted to cry.</p><p class="western">Still, Burt couldn't help noticing, and across the table, he nodded at Blaine sympathetically. It was clear what that nod meant: <em>I understand exactly how you feel. I'm losing him, too</em>.</p><hr/><p class="western">The sound of the alarm going off crept into Blaine's dream very slowly, until he was finally conscious enough to understand what it was. He moved to turn it off, but Kurt beat him to it.</p><p class="western">"It's okay," Kurt murmured, his voice hoarse with sleep. "You can sleep a bit more. I need to go shower."</p><p class="western">But now that he had been ripped away from his dream, Blaine remembered why they were getting up earlier than usual on a Sunday. He knew why Kurt had to get ready, and where they'd be going later that morning…</p><p class="western">"No, no," he mumbled, blinking and sitting up. "I'm up."</p><p class="western">Kurt buried his fingers in the morning mess of Blaine's curls, tugging him closer. "Hey, if you're up, do you wanna join me in the shower?"</p><p class="western">Blaine accepted the kiss, relishing it, wishing it could last forever. "How could I say no to that offer?"</p><p class="western">As he stood under the warm spray, Blaine did everything he could to make sure he'd memorized every inch of Kurt's body. He didn't want to forget how amazing his smooth creamy skin felt under his fingertips, or the number of freckles he had on his left shoulder, or how Kurt gasped when Blaine let his finger catch slightly on a nipple. He traced every line, every vein; every muscle, every curve. He washed Kurt's hair to feel how thick and soft it was amongst his fingers, and kissed the sharp line of his jaw.</p><p class="western">Kurt allowed him to do it, watching him intently, and then returned the favor, washing Blaine's hair and soaping up his body as he ran his hands over his tanned, beautiful skin. It seemed to take all the strength out of them, and they stayed under the shower spray for a few minutes, wrapped up in each other, chests moving in sync with their breaths, and not wanting to let go even though they knew they had to. Their time was running out.</p><p class="western">Blaine made coffee while Kurt double checked that he hadn't forgotten something for the last time. Blaine went back upstairs with the coffee and stood by the bedroom's doorway, watching Kurt flipping through his closet, checking every last drawer. His heart clenched, pleading for him to not let him go, but his head was set on doing exactly the opposite. Kurt needed to be in New York. He wouldn't – <em>couldn't </em>beg him to stay here with him.</p><p class="western">"Stop worrying," Blaine said, trying to sound nonchalant, as he took a sip from his own mug. "Your father already told you he'd send you anything you forget. He and Finn will be here tonight to take the rest of the stuff to his place. They'll make sure there isn't anything left behind, one last time."</p><p class="western">"I'd rather not forget anything, though," Kurt answered, as he accepted the cup Blaine was offering him.</p><p class="western">They sat on the bed (one of the last pieces of furniture left in the house where they could actually sit) and drank their coffees mostly in silence. There wasn't much more left to say. Blaine didn't want to pay too much attention to the aura of sadness in the air. They couldn't ruin this, this very important exciting day in Kurt's life.</p><p class="western">Kurt grabbed his hand, kissed his palm, smiled at him. "Thank you so much, Blaine. This wouldn't be happening if it wasn't for you."</p><p class="western">"Someone had to believe in your talent," Blaine shrugged, grinning. "And you were being particularly stubborn."</p><p class="western">"Well, I'm really glad you believed in me," Kurt answered, and leaned in to capture Blaine's lips in a coffee- flavored kiss.</p><p class="western">They had already agreed that Blaine would drive Kurt to the airport. He had said goodbye to his family on Friday, but both Carole and Burt assured their son that they would come to visit him in New York as soon as he was settled, so they knew this wasn't a final goodbye.</p><p class="western">It was goodbye for Blaine, and they understood that. They gave him the chance to have Kurt to himself a little bit longer.</p><p class="western">The car ride was intense. They held hands as much as they could. Kurt pulled Blaine's hand onto his lap and cradled it between his own, while he could. His blue eyes were constantly staring out the window, and Blaine wondered if he was holding back tears, too. Blaine was certainly fighting to keep his tears at bay.</p><p class="western">He found a spot to park the car when they got there, and Kurt turned to him. "You don't have to go inside if you don't want to…"</p><p class="western">"I want to," Blaine insisted, and with a quick squeeze of his hand, they both got out of the car.</p><p class="western">Blaine's grip on Kurt's hand as they walked through the crowded terminal was so tight that he was sure he was cutting off Kurt's blood flow, but he couldn't pull away, couldn't let go of him yet. It seemed it wasn't his brain controlling his body today, but his heart, clinging onto Kurt to keep him from leaving.</p><p class="western">When Kurt's flight was announced through the speakers, Blaine bit his lip. They stopped right in front of the door Kurt would have to walk through to depart from Blaine's life. They looked at each other, seeing their sadness mirrored.</p><p class="western">"I'm going to miss you so much," Kurt muttered, wrapping his arms around Blaine's neck and pulling him closer, one last time.</p><p class="western">"I'm going to miss you, too," Blaine closed his eyes and swallowed down the lump threatening to close his throat. He couldn't allow himself to cry yet. "But we're going to stay in touch, right? Even if we can't see each other, even if we can't… even if I can't kiss you and touch you… I'll still hear from you?"</p><p class="western">"Of course you will," Kurt promised softly, with a smile. "I'll send you the first email tomorrow, right after my first day at Vogue. I'll tell you in meticulous detail how it went."</p><p class="western">"Can't wait," Blaine whispered, and then took a sharp intake of breath. "Kurt, I…" He wanted to say it. He <em>needed </em>to say it. Kurt couldn't leave without knowing how much Blaine loved him… but, no. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair to either of them to say those words when they were about to go down different paths. Those three words should never be said for the first time, in a bittersweet goodbye. "I-I'm incredibly proud of you. So proud."</p><p class="western">If Kurt was disappointed, he hid it extremely well. "Thank you, but there's nothing to be proud of yet. Just wait. I'll make you proud."</p><p class="western">The female voice on the speakers announced the last call for Kurt's flight. Blaine saw Kurt giving the surrounding throng a quick look, but he must have decided he didn't give a shit about what they thought, because he closed the distance between them and kissed Blaine as passionately as he had kissed him the night before between the sheets of his bed.</p><p class="western">Blaine wrapped his arms around his waist and kept their bodies glued together, forcing his senses to absorb every smell, feeling, sound of Kurt. He needed to remember this. He couldn't miss anything.</p><p class="western">Kurt finished the kiss reluctantly. He pecked Blaine on the lips one last time. "I really have to go now."</p><p class="western">"I know," Blaine sighed, as he tried to pull himself together. He managed to look Kurt in the eyes again without any sobs escaping from his throat. "You're going to take New York by storm, Kurt Hummel."</p><p class="western">"I will. For you," Kurt cupped his cheek, gazes melting into each other, earnestly. He nodded. "This is only happening because of you. I won't disappoint you, Blaine."</p><p class="western">Blaine's heart seemed to have realized Kurt wasn't staying, because it was suddenly screaming to Blaine to run away, to escape from the pain, and Kurt wasn't even gone yet.</p><p class="western">"You could never disappoint me," he said, his voice cracking. He took a step back, out of Kurt's arms, like jumping off a building into space. "Have a good flight."</p><p class="western">Kurt bit his lip and nodded. There wasn't anything else left to say. Only goodbye, and neither of them intended to ever say that. It wasn't goodbye. Not really. It couldn't be.</p><p class="western">Kurt turned to walk to the door and handed his ticket to the airline employee, who checked it quickly and wished him a nice flight. Only then did Kurt look over his shoulder, and smiled, the slightest tug of lips, at Blaine one last time.</p><p class="western">And just like that, he was gone.</p><hr/><p class="western">The sound of a car parking alerted Heather Anderson that someone was coming. She dried her hands on the kitchen cloth and lowered the temperature on the oven where she was baking brownies, so they wouldn't dry out. Then she walked to the front door, and pulled it open just as a faint knock sounded.</p><p class="western">Blaine immediately fell into his mother's arms; tear tracks tracing his cheeks and chest heaving with his repressed sobs. He clung to her as if he had nothing else to ground him.</p><p class="western">"He's gone. Mom, he's gone," he said, completely devastated.</p><p class="western">Heather could only rock him gently back and forth as she held him. "It's going to be okay, darling. Just breathe. It'll be okay."</p><p class="western">From the way his body started shaking as he cried harder, it was obvious he didn't believe so.</p><hr/><p class="western">Kurt checked the address one last time before he exited the cab, setting his suitcase onto the sidewalk. He looked up at the building as the yellow car drove off in the city traffic. Even standing there, breathing in the not-always-pleasant scents of New York, he felt like he'd come home.</p><p class="western">With a huff of determination, he went into the building and found the elevator, where he hit the button for the sixth floor. It seemed like it took forever to ascend, and every breath he took made him feel heavier and heavier with anticipation.</p><p class="western">The apartment he was looking for was the third one down the hallway. He stood at the white wooden door and closed his eyes for a moment before knocking. A voice came from inside, asking him to wait a minute. Kurt battled the emotions vying inside of him: excitement, dread, anxiety, fear.</p><p class="western">Finally, the door opened to reveal the one person who had always been there for him, even during the darkest times. It was so weird seeing her again, like she had been pulled out of one of his dreams, and judging by the look on her face, she wasn't feeling very different about seeing him at her doorstep.</p><p class="western">"Hi, Rachel," he muttered quietly.</p><p class="western">"Kurt…" Rachel exhaled, breathlessly. "W-what…? I…"</p><p class="western">"I know I'm very late, but…" He held a white envelope in front of him. "I got your letter."</p><p class="western">Rachel simply gaped at him for a moment, and then tears shone in her eyes. She smiled brighter that he had ever seen her smile before, as she launched herself unexpectedly into his arms, laughing hysterically and squealing in delight.</p><p class="western">Maybe he had lost his lover today, but at least he'd gotten his best friend back.</p><p class="western">Kurt tried his hardest to let that thought comfort him. It wasn't helping, but he hugged Rachel a little tighter, just in case.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">
  <b>To: </b>
  <a href="mailto:blaine.anderson@gmail.com">blaine.anderson@gmail.com</a>
</p><p class="western">
  <b>From: </b>
  <a href="mailto:khummel@vogue.com">khummel@vogue.com</a>
</p><p class="western"><b>Subject: </b>Look, I have a fancy email address!</p><p class="western">I may or may not have wept tears of joy when I logged into my official Vogue email for the first time, but an email address with my <em>name </em>and the word Vogue in it, makes it all finally seem real.</p><p class="western">Hello, by the way! My first day at Vogue officially ended five minutes ago, but I stayed to finish organizing some files and decided to email you before I go home. I'll bet you're still at the bookshop. It feels so strange to not be able to have coffee with you while we wait until it's closing time.</p><p class="western">I know I didn't really tell you much about my plans while I was still in Ohio – I was trying to enjoy every second I had left there, by avoiding thinking about what was going to be happening here, but you'll be happy to know I'm staying with Rachel. I went to her apartment yesterday straight from the airport, and she was ecstatic to see me. She cooked my favorite dinner, drew me a bath before I went to bed, and then woke me up this morning with breakfast ready. I think she's trying to bribe me into staying with her, but she doesn't need to do all of that. Living with her the first time was a little crazy, but I can't think of anyone better to share my New York adventures with. She isn't upset at all about me missing her opening night, and already promised me tickets to see her next weekend.</p><p class="western">I haven't been doing anything fashion related yet, but I can already say I love my job. I serve coffee, send emails, organize files… simple stuff, but I'm breathing fashion again and living a dream I thought was dead. I didn't think I'd ever be this happy again.</p><p class="western">There are three other interns and I'm the oldest (they're just eighteen year old kids. They all sat together at lunch today and I felt like I was back in high school, but instead of being judged for my sexuality, I'm being judged for my advance age. Does this never end?!). I don't really care, though. They may be younger, but no one's as thirsty for success as Kurt Hummel. I'm done with failing, Blaine. I don't care how hard I have to work to make a success of this opportunity.</p><p class="western">How was your day? I hope that by the time you read this, you're at your apartment, already wearing those soft pajama pants you like so much and eating something delicious for dinner. Is it Chinese? I crave Chinese. That place near your apartment makes the best Chinese food I've ever tried.</p><p class="western">I'm starting to ramble, only because I don't want to end this email. I didn't think I'd miss you this much, but I already do. Are we allowed to say that? That we miss each other? Will it make it even harder to be so far apart? If you'd rather I didn't say that, I'll understand. But while I'm still allowed, I'll say it again: Gosh, I miss you. It's been barely a day since I left, but it seems like I'll have to try harder to learn how to do without having you around.</p><p class="western">Maybe now would be a good moment to confess that I stole one of your old t-shirts and that you'll probably never get it back again. It was so soft, and it smelled so much like you… I slept in it last night, and I feel pathetic admitting it, but it was the only way I could fall asleep. I closed my eyes and I imagined you were here.</p><p class="western">Thank you, for giving me my dreams again. I can't believe I'm here.</p><p class="western">K.-</p><p class="western">PS: I miss you.</p><hr/><p class="western">
  <b>To: </b>
  <a href="mailto:khummel@vogue.com">khummel@vogue.com</a>
</p><p class="western">
  <b>From: </b>
  <a href="mailto:blaine.anderson@gmail.com">blaine.anderson@gmail.com</a>
</p><p class="western"><b>Subject: </b>RE: Look, I have a fancy email address!</p><p class="western">Kurt,</p><p class="western">Congratulations on your first successful day as Vogue's best intern ever. Those kids you're working with have no idea Kurt Hummel is a force to be reckoned with. They'll regret their lack of respect when they end up working for <em>you </em>(it'll happen. It's just a matter of time).</p><p class="western">I really am happy that you're living with Rachel. I have to admit I was a little worried since you hadn't mentioned any living arrangements and I never saw you looking for apartments online. I figured you had something planned, but I didn't think it would be this. It comforts me to know you're not alone in that big, sometimes scary city. Send Rachel my gratitude for taking such good care of you.</p><p class="western">My day was quite uneventful. I went to work, came back, put those pajamas on, grabbed a beer and ordered pizza (sorry to disappoint. I'll order Chinese tomorrow, if you want). The one thing out of the ordinary was how much I missed you (I <em>miss </em>you. I always do, present tense. I'm missing you right now, so much that I wish I could hug you through a computer screen). I thought about you all day. <em>Courage </em>is full of memories of you, and so is my apartment. Everything feels distant, quiet, boring, and empty without you. And it's only day one. Will it ever get easier?</p><p class="western">And yes, of course we're allowed to say we miss each other. Maybe it'll make things harder, but it's nothing but the truth. I'm pretty sure I'll always miss you, no matter how well I adjust to you not being around. Although, maybe I won't be able to get used to that either…</p><p class="western">I hope you got home from work safely.</p><p class="western">Blaine.</p><p class="western">PS: I'm glad you have something of mine to remember me by. I wish I had been equally as clever and grabbed something of yours as well. At least my bed still smells like you, until I have to wash the sheets.</p><p class="western">PPS: I saw my mom yesterday after I took you to the airport. She told me that she's proud of you, and that she wishes you all the luck in the world.</p><p class="western">PPPS: I miss you more.</p><hr/><p class="western">
  <b>To: </b>
  <a href="mailto:blaine.anderson@gmail.com">blaine.anderson@gmail.com</a>
</p><p class="western">
  <b>From: </b>
  <a href="mailto:khummel@vogue.com">khummel@vogue.com</a>
</p><p class="western"><b>Subject: </b>Rachel says hi.</p><p class="western"><b>Attachments: </b>knr .jpg– kurtcentralpark .jpg</p><p class="western">She's actually waving at the screen over my shoulder, and I'm trying to explain to her that, no, emails don't actually work that way. I guess she's just excited… <em>still </em>excited, about having me back here again. She's been like an hyperactive puppy since I got here.</p><p class="western">It's a beautiful Sunday morning in New York, and I'm having a cup of coffee. It's a Medium Drip. I'm guessing you know why I decided to change my coffee order today.</p><p class="western">I'm sending you two pictures of our little adventure in Central Park yesterday. The first one is actually so you can meet Rachel, since I don't think I've ever sent you a picture of her before. She also insisted I had to send you the second one where I'm sitting on the edge of that fountain because I, and I quote, 'look endlessly cute in it'. Her words, Blaine, not mine. Either way, I thought you'd like to see them.</p><p class="western">Last night I finally saw Rachel perform in <em>Wicked</em>. I may not have been there for her opening night, but it was still an amazing experience. I've known this girl since we were just kids, and seeing her shining on that stage made me spill a few tears. She was so good, I wish you could see her. Maybe you can come for a weekend soon, and we can go together? I can't help hoping that we'll find a way to see each other again very soon.</p><p class="western">Did you do anything exciting this weekend? I can't wait to hear from you even though you just emailed me yesterday to tell me about those kids in the book store.</p><p class="western">Rachel is yelling at me that it's time to get ready to leave – we're having lunch together before she has to go to the theatre. There's a whole bunch of restaurants she wants me to try. I think she's having a bit too much fun showing me around the city. I really don't mind, because I've missed her.</p><p class="western">I miss <em>you</em>.</p><p class="western">K.-</p><hr/><p class="western">
  <b>To: </b>
  <a href="mailto:khummel@vogue.com">khummel@vogue.com</a>
</p><p class="western">
  <b>From: </b>
  <a href="mailto:blaine.anderson@gmail.com">blaine.anderson@gmail.com</a>
</p><p class="western"><b>Subject: </b>Carly says hi.</p><p class="western">I ran into Carly at the Lima Bean before opening the book store today, on her way to do some wedding stuff and she told me you agreed to make her dress. I can't tell you how happy that makes me – I know it's a big step for you to commit to a project like that, and I'm sure she will look so, so incredibly beautiful in your design.</p><p class="western">How are you? You didn't send me any emails yesterday (this is where I would insert a sad-face emoticon if I was fifteen years younger… well, maybe ten). Are they keeping you very busy at Vogue? Tell them your friend Blaine still needs to hear from you, and that I would appreciate it if they gave you time off to talk to me, too (and here's where I would insert a happy face, so I sound like a charming guy who simply wants to spend more time with his best friend, instead of a completely selfish jerk).</p><p class="western">My mother called me today and begged me to ask you for that chicken with mushroom sauce recipe that I drool over. She said she'll make it for me if I can get you to share your culinary secrets, so please, help me out here. I miss your cooking so much, and even though I know it won't be the same if my mother cooks for me, it might be close. (She's amazing, but she's not <em>you</em>. You are the one I want right now, even more than your delicious chicken with mushrooms). Please and thank you.</p><p class="western">(I think she's just trying to make me feel better. She knows how much I miss you. I haven't been brave enough to tell her food won't really change anything. I'll still miss you just as much, after dinner, as I do right now.)</p><p class="western">You know what else I've discovered since you left? My coffee doesn't taste the same. I guess I was getting used to tasting it on your lips…</p><p class="western">(Whoa, that was sappy.)</p><p class="western">Blaine.</p><p class="western">PS: I drove by your house today. At least, what used to be your house. There's a "sold" sign on it now. It feels sad to think that's where we shared so much, and now it's gone.</p><hr/><p class="western">Emails flowed daily, the first few weeks. They always found time to send at least a few lines to each other, to ask about their days, to share silly incidents that had happened to them during the weekend.</p><p class="western">They weren't hugs. They weren't kisses. They weren't the caresses that they both desperately yearned for, but those emails were enough. They kept them connected; they kept them in each other's lives.</p><p class="western">It wasn't everything, but it was <em>something</em>.</p><hr/><p class="western">
  <b>To: </b>
  <a href="mailto:blaine.anderson@gmail.com">blaine.anderson@gmail.com</a>
</p><p class="western">
  <b>From: </b>
  <a href="mailto:khummel@vogue.com">khummel@vogue.com</a>
</p><p class="western"><b>Subject: </b>News.</p><p class="western">Hey you,</p><p class="western">I'm sorry I'm going to have to keep this short, but I'll be late if I don't. I just really wanted to tell you that I got a new job. Well, an extra job, really. You know the internship at Vogue isn't a paid internship, and since Rachel insisted I stay here in her apartment with her, I wanted to contribute my half of the rent. I have the money from selling the house and my truck that my dad sent me, but it won't last forever.</p><p class="western">So anyway, it's not a very exciting job. I'll be a waiter at a fancy restaurant (cross your fingers that I see someone famous. Anyone you want an autograph from, in case I meet them? Any writers I should keep watch for?). My work schedule will be mostly on weekends with an occasional night during the week, when I get out earlier from the office.</p><p class="western">Better than working construction, I hope?</p><p class="western">I'll talk to you later! May your Saturday night be a lot more exciting than mine!</p><p class="western">K.-</p><hr/><p class="western">
  <b>To: </b>
  <a href="mailto:khummel@vogue.com">khummel@vogue.com</a>
</p><p class="western">
  <b>From: </b>
  <a href="mailto:blaine.anderson@gmail.com">blaine.anderson@gmail.com</a>
</p><p class="western"><b>Subject: </b>RE: News.</p><p class="western">Congratulations on the new job! It may not be exciting, but remember it's only temporary. As soon as the people at Vogue realize what a true gem you are when it comes to fashion, they're going to give you a (well-deserved) promotion.</p><p class="western">Regarding famous people you may meet at work… uhm. I should probably send you pictures of my favorite authors (at least the ones who are alive. It would be a little awkward if Tolkien decides to walk into a restaurant after being dead for decades), but if you happen to see Colin Firth, I'd appreciate an autograph.</p><p class="western">And talking about gorgeous actors, is there a movie you could recommend? I have no plans this weekend (my mom called me earlier today and cancelled our lunch date, so when I say I have NO plans, I have NO PLANS). I haven't watched any of the new ones that everyone seems to be talking about. Have you seen any good ones? Nothing too depressing, though, please.</p><p class="western">Good luck on your first day on the new job! Let me know how it goes!</p><p class="western">Blaine.</p><hr/><p class="western">
  <b>To: </b>
  <a href="mailto:blaine.anderson@gmail.com">blaine.anderson@gmail.com</a>
</p><p class="western">
  <b>From: </b>
  <a href="mailto:khummel@vogue.com">khummel@vogue.com</a>
</p><p class="western"><b>Subject: </b>YES, I'M STILL ALIVE.</p><p class="western">Ugh, I'M SO SORRY. I know it's been almost a week since you sent me that last email, but I've been crazy busy. I never knew having two jobs could actually be a cause of death, but I'm starting to believe it's possible.</p><p class="western">I'm pretty sure Vogue is doing their own version of the Hunger Games, and they're truly enjoying watching us interns battle each other for a paid position at the company. They fired one of them this week – it was terrifying, actually. She fucked up an order and that ended up ruining a photo shoot. Our boss yelled at her so much I'm surprised she still was able to talk afterwards.</p><p class="western">She fired her right there and then, and once the girl had run away from the building in tears, she turned to us and told us to fix her mistake if we didn't want to end the same way. Since then, we've pretty much been competing to see who can please the higher powers the best. I haven't screwed anything up (yet), but I'm so stressed. I feel like this could end in the blink of an eye and that scares me so much.</p><p class="western">Working at the restaurant isn't that bad, but running around carrying trays, remembering all the orders, and constantly having to hurry to serve everyone… it isn't easy. I could really use one of your magic massages right now. I miss your hands so much…</p><p class="western">I'm writing this with the last bit of strength I have – I'm so ready to pass out in my nice, warm bed. I have another crazy day tomorrow and I'll probably need fifteen cups of coffee to get through it. I'll let you know if I make it out alive.</p><p class="western">I'm sorry I haven't been here for you as much, but I thought of you all the time. Tell me what you've been up to.</p><p class="western">Goodnight,</p><p class="western">K.-</p><hr/><p class="western">
  <b>To: </b>
  <a href="mailto:khummel@vogue.com">khummel@vogue.com</a>
</p><p class="western">
  <b>From: </b>
  <a href="mailto:blaine.anderson@gmail.com">blaine.anderson@gmail.com</a>
</p><p class="western"><b>Subject: </b>RE: YES, I'M STILL ALIVE.</p><p class="western">Oh, thank GOD. I was about to send a rescue team. The FBI. Your father. Anything.</p><p class="western">I have to say, even though I really liked the Hunger Games books (are you even surprised?), I wouldn't want your life to turn into that. If I were there, I would volunteer to take your place. But since I know nothing of fashion, I would be killed as soon as I entered the arena. So I don't believe I can help you at all.</p><p class="western">Anyway, I'm sorry you barely have time to breathe. I'm sure you're so much better than all those interns, though (I did tell you that several times already so start believing it), so I have absolutely no doubt you'll still be standing there once they are all gone. You can do this, Kurt Hummel.</p><p class="western">I can't tell you how <em>much </em>I'd love to give you a massage. My hands are eagerly waiting for the chance. Have you at least met Colin Firth yet? Maybe he would help you with that massage (I'd be <em>so </em>jealous… of Colin Firth, of course, because he'd get to touch you and <em>I </em>can't).</p><p class="western">Seriously, now… don't kill yourself with work, Kurt. I know you have a goal, I know you're motivated, I know you're scared this will all end before you can prevent it, but if you don't take care of yourself, you won't get very far. Sleep, eat, relax a little but every night. I know you put yourself under a lot of pressure, but if you allow yourself to do this step by step, you'll reach the stars.</p><p class="western">So go into the office tomorrow and do whatever they ask you to do, be the best you can be, and then go home, have dinner and watch a movie with Rachel. Laugh, forget about whatever is in your mind, and enjoy. Go for a walk. You're in New York now, Kurt. You're free. You shouldn't work yourself into a heart attack before you truly <em>live</em>.</p><p class="western">I hope we get to talk soon. I'll be worried about you now, you know? You'll have to check in with me as regularly as you can.</p><p class="western">I miss you,</p><p class="western">Blaine.</p><hr/><p class="western">It was late on Saturday night, the book store had long ago closed its doors, and most of the lights were already out. A small lamp on a desk in the backroom bathed Blaine's hands and face in a pale, yellow glow, as he hunched over his laptop, updating his books to prepare his monthly statements.</p><p class="western">When he entered the final number, the bottom line recalculated to show where he stood. There was a crease on his forehead, and his lips were set in a tight line. Those were the only signs that showed that Blaine Anderson was worried.</p><p class="western">Blaine had always been good with numbers. Brilliant, actually. He had probably inherited that from his father, and it had helped him enormously while he was in school. There wasn't a single math test where he didn't get an A, and his math homework was done in record time every night. Numbers were safe and easy: no matter how many problems the teacher gave him, it comforted him to know they all had a solution.</p><p class="western">Still, Blaine rechecked his computer entries against his calculations multiple times, hoping he'd find a mistake. But the truth was right there, in front of his eyes, clear as day: his sales weren't nearly high enough to keep his bookshop sustainable.</p><p class="western">With a sigh, he leaned back against his chair. Ironically, Kurt had been right the whole time. Opening a book store in times like this wasn't a very good idea, especially in a small town where people preferred other kinds of entertainment. Blaine was losing money every day, his sales not enough to pay for carrying his inventory, much less make a profit. In a few more months, his inheritance would be gone and he would be left with nothing.</p><p class="western">It broke his heart to see his dream crumbling, escaping through his fingers like a handful of sand without him being able to do a thing to stop it.</p><p class="western">He knew what he had to do, but he was too weak to go ahead and pull the plug.</p><hr/><p class="western">Blaine's fingers hovered over the keyboard as he bit his lip. He was composing an email to Kurt and he couldn't decide if he wanted to tell him about <em>Courage </em>being well on its way to bankruptcy or not.</p><p class="western">A part of him felt ashamed; ashamed that he had been so gullible enough to really believe he could have a happily ever after. He lost that chance when Kurt got on the plane to New York, and thinking the book store would save him from his misery had been nothing but another mistake. Thinking any of his dreams could come true had been a mistake.</p><p class="western">Blaine was so tired of making mistakes.</p><p class="western">Another part of him was so terribly sad at the death of his lifelong dream that he just wanted Kurt to hold him, and comfort him with the warmth of his body. But that was just as impossible as keeping his beloved bookshop: Kurt was gone, and soon <em>Courage </em>would be gone, too.</p><p class="western">He deleted the few lines he had written and put his computer aside. There wasn't anything worth emailing Kurt about.</p><hr/><p class="western">
  <b>To: </b>
  <a href="mailto:blaine.anderson@gmail.com">blaine.anderson@gmail.com</a>
</p><p class="western">
  <b>From: </b>
  <a href="mailto:khummel@vogue.com">khummel@vogue.com</a>
</p><p class="western"><b>Subject: </b>Hello?</p><p class="western">It's been a few days since I've heard from you and I'm getting worried. I know it's not unusual for me to disappear, but you've always replied to my emails within a couple of hours. Are you okay? Is the book store keeping you very busy?</p><p class="western">I'm supposed to be at the restaurant in forty minutes, but I really hope I have an email from you when I get back.</p><p class="western">K.-</p><hr/><p class="western">Blaine stared at the screen, at Kurt's message, and gave a hopeless sigh. Yeah, he <em>had </em>been avoiding talking to Kurt, even though he still didn't know why. Maybe it was because everything seemed to hurt right now and because Kurt's absence was the major reason for his pain. Maybe it was because he felt like everything he wanted in life had been given ripped out of his hands as soon as he touched them.</p><p class="western">Maybe it was because the distance between them was really difficult. Maybe it was because he knew he was still in love with a guy he would never have again.</p><p class="western">Maybe it was because he was lost, and he had no one to help him find his way again.</p><hr/><p class="western">
  <b>To: </b>
  <a href="mailto:khummel@vogue.com">khummel@vogue.com</a>
</p><p class="western">
  <b>From: </b>
  <a href="mailto:blaine.anderson@gmail.com">blaine.anderson@gmail.com</a>
</p><p class="western"><b>Subject: </b>RE: Hello?</p><p class="western">Hey,</p><p class="western">I'm okay, I swear. I'm just very busy with the bookshop, and I haven't had time to check my email as much as I used to.</p><p class="western">I hope you had a nice day at work,</p><p class="western">Blaine.</p><hr/><p class="western">"Rachel?"</p><p class="western">He could hear his roommate humming in the other room, a pleasant sound that ended when she heard her name being called. "Mm?"</p><p class="western">Kurt bit his lip. "Could you come here?"</p><p class="western">Rachel padded into his room, already in her pajamas, her long, dark hair braided and her face cleansed of makeup. "What is it?"</p><p class="western">Kurt sighed and pushed his computer at her. "Read that, please."</p><p class="western">Rachel's eyes scanned the words in the screen. He watched her frown in confusion, as she tried to scroll down the page to see if there was more.</p><p class="western">There wasn't. He had already checked.</p><p class="western">"What's up with Blaine?" She asked, pushing the computer back to him. "He usually sends you really long, detailed emails."</p><p class="western">"I don't know…" Kurt leaned back against his pillows as he eyed the email again. It was so… cold, and dry, so unlike Blaine. "Do you think I did something wrong? Do you think he's upset because I haven't emailed him as often as I did the first few weeks?"</p><p class="western">"He wouldn't get upset about <em>that</em>," she said thoughtfully. "He knows you're trying to make a life here. That takes time."</p><p class="western">"I just…" Kurt picked on a loose thread on his comforter. "I feel like things are changing between us, and I don't want that. I know we can't be more than friends, not as long as we live in different places, but… I was hoping our friendship would last longer than this. I was hoping he wouldn't get bored so fast."</p><p class="western">"Who says he's bored?" Rachel patted his knee as soothingly as she could. "Maybe he just had a bad day. Don't jump to conclusions yet. Give him some time, give him some space, and see what happens next."</p><p class="western">"Yeah…" Kurt murmured, but he wasn't convinced.</p><p class="western">"He's the one who sent you here, Kurt," Rachel leaned to kiss his forehead and then stood up from the edge of his bed. "He cares about you. Don't freak out just because of one little email. He's in Ohio, you're in New York. You don't know everything that is happening in his life, so just wait and see what happens next."</p><p class="western">Kurt gave her a little smile. "You've gotten wiser with time, Ms. Berry."</p><p class="western">She rolled her eyes and chuckled. "What can I say? I had to learn the hard way myself, these past few years."</p><p class="western">Kurt turned his gaze back to the computer as Rachel walked out of the room. After hesitating for a moment, he typed a quick email for Blaine, suggesting maybe they could Skype some time soon. He asked Blaine to let him know when he had a free night so he could try to fit it into his own schedule.</p><p class="western">If he saw Blaine's face, if he looked into his eyes as they talked, if he heard his voice, perhaps he could understand better where he was coming from.</p><hr/><p class="western">Heather was already at the restaurant she had chosen for their weekly lunch date when Blaine arrived. He kissed her cheek before taking the seat opposite hers, and immediately apologized for keeping her waiting, even though they were both a little early.</p><p class="western">"It's okay, darling," she smiled at him. "Isn't this a lovely place? My friend Sarah says we should try the salmon."</p><p class="western">There was something off about Heather that day, a weird stilted air around her that didn't seem at all like the usually calm and charming woman that Blaine was used to seeing.</p><p class="western">"That sounds good," he answered vaguely, as he studied her quietly. Her eyes were fixed on the menu, never once wandering to his. "Mom? Is everything alright?"</p><p class="western">"What? Oh, yes, dear, everything is fine. I'm starving, that's all…" She said, with another smile, but this time it didn't look very sincere. "How was your week?"</p><p class="western">"It was fine." Now it was Blaine who was avoiding her gaze. He hadn't told his mother about the book store's financial issues, although he didn't know why. She would find out, eventually, especially once he talked to the dean at Dalton to ask for his job back. "How was yours?"</p><p class="western">Every conversation while they ate seemed strained and forced. Blaine was wondering if maybe his mother could tell something was bothering him, if maybe she was trying to find some way to bring it up. It would be typical of her: since he'd been a kid, Heather had been able to read him just as easily as he could read the books piled on his bedside table.</p><p class="western">He finally decided to just go ahead and tell her, when she reached across the table and grabbed his hand, her eyes troubled. She focused on Blaine's fingers curling around her hand, as if they were fascinating.</p><p class="western">"Mom?" Blaine frowned, becoming even more worried. He had never seen her like this, so hesitant, nervous.</p><p class="western">"There's something I need to tell you," Heather muttered quietly. "But it's hard to say it."</p><p class="western">Blaine squeezed her hand and smiled at her, trying to be supportive. "Mom, you know you can tell me anything…"</p><p class="western">"I have cancer," she interrupted, and suddenly everything seemed to go cold and still around them.</p><p class="western">He'd heard the words from her own lips, but Blaine knew what he had heard couldn't be correct. There was no way his mother… no. There must have been a mistake. He hadn't heard her clearly. There was too much noise in the restaurant. That was all.</p><p class="western">"I'm… can you say that again?" He mumbled dumbly.</p><p class="western">Heather looked at him with her face flooded in compassion. "I have cancer, Blaine."</p><p class="western">"You… no. You can't have cancer," Blaine dropped her hand, as if rejecting any physical contact would change what she had just announced. "It's not funny. Don't ever make jokes about that."</p><p class="western">"It's not a joke, sweetheart," she said sadly. "I wish it was, but it isn't."</p><p class="western">Blaine felt like he was having trouble breathing. He gripped the edge of the table tightly, until his knuckles went white. "I'm sure there must be a mistake, Mom. Have you talked to a specialist?"</p><p class="western">"Of course I have, darling," she nodded slowly. "It's pancreatic cancer. I went in for a checkup because I had an upset stomach that wouldn't go away; I hadn't been able to properly eat for a while, and I thought maybe it was an ulcer or something like that. But after running a few tests…"</p><p class="western">"This can't be happening…" Blaine whispered to himself, before snapping out of it and clasping his mother's hand in his again. "Mom. Listen to me. We'll find the best doctors in Ohio, and we'll get you the best treatment available, and everything will be alright. You can <em>do </em>this. You can beat it…"</p><p class="western">"No, Blaine, I can't," she said softly. She took a deep breath. "It had already spread everywhere by the time they caught it, Blaine. There's… there's nothing left to do."</p><p class="western">"No…" He shook his head. This couldn't mean what he thought it meant… "No, Mom. They're wrong. We'll find another doctor. We'll see what they can do. I'm sure there's still time. When did you find out?"</p><p class="western">"Almost two months ago, Blaine," she looked at him apologetically.</p><p class="western">"<em>Two months ago</em>?" Blaine repeated, incredulously. "How come you didn't tell me then?"</p><p class="western">"Because you were already upset about Kurt leaving, and I didn't want to put any more weight on your shoulders," she explained calmly. "But I can't hide it anymore. It's getting harder, Blaine. I'm in pain now, and I'm so tired all the time…"</p><p class="western">Blaine could feel the tears building in his eyes. "I can't believe this is happening…"</p><p class="western">"It's okay, darling," her fingers curled around his lovingly. "Everyone has to die at some point."</p><p class="western">"But it's too soon," Blaine protested, like a child who couldn't understand why he couldn't stay up past his bedtime. "It's too soon. First Dad, and now you…"</p><p class="western">"Maybe your Dad and I weren't meant to be apart for too long," she murmured, with tears running down her cheeks. Blaine had to swallow a sob. "I'm sorry, dear. I'm <em>so </em>sorry. I just want you to stop having so many reasons to be sad…"</p><p class="western">"Are you sure there's nothing we can do?" He asked, almost pleadingly.</p><p class="western">"Spend as much time together from now on as we can," Heather replied gently. "That's all we can do, and it's also all I want."</p><p class="western">He brought her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles and then leaned his forehead against it as he let his tears fall, unable to hold them back anymore. "Anything you want, Mom. Anything."</p><p class="western">Blaine wasn't sure how his life had become <em>this</em>, this path full of obstacles that seemed to lead to more and more pain. He had lost Kurt, he was losing his bookshop, and he was soon going to lose his mother. He wondered to himself what the point of his life was anymore.</p><p class="western">Life had never been fair to him, and it would never be. Of that, Blaine was absolutely sure.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Blaine remembered a time when he would wake up in the morning with the biggest smile on his face. He would fill his travel mug with coffee and drive to his book store to spend another day surrounded by the books he loved. He would greet every customer (there weren't many, really, he should've known he was in trouble) with a welcoming grin, and would assist them in any way he could. He would see Kurt's beautiful face every night, feel his ardent kisses, return his kiss with just as much passion, and then fall asleep in his arms, to look forward to doing it all over again the next day.</p><p class="western">There was a time when his mother wasn't dying, right in front of him, when her strength didn't diminish with every passing day, when her smile and her eyes weren't tainted with any kind of pain.</p><p class="western">There was a time when Blaine was happy, but that time was now gone.</p><hr/><p class="western">
  <b>To: </b>
  <a href="mailto:khummel@vogue.com">khummel@vogue.com</a>
</p><p class="western">
  <b>From: </b>
  <a href="mailto:blaine.anderson@gmail.com">blaine.anderson@gmail.com</a>
</p><p class="western"><b>Subject</b>: RE: Skype. Hi Kurt,</p><p class="western">I'm sorry I couldn't reply to this earlier. Skyping with you sounds great, but I'm afraid I don't have a lot of spare time right now. Can I get a rain check? I'm sure you're just as busy as I am, if not more.</p><p class="western">How are things going there? How's Rachel? Any new, crazy stories about her you can tell me?</p><p class="western">Everything's great here. We had some rain today, so it was pretty quiet at the book store. I had time to finish the book I was reading.</p><p class="western">Take care,</p><p class="western">Blaine.</p><hr/><p class="western">Kurt frowned. Once again, Blaine's email was vaguely disconcerting. It was so short, so impersonal, as if Blaine was trying to add to the distance between them. How much more distance could there be?</p><p class="western">He re-read the email a few more times, until he knew it by heart, as if memorizing it would help him find an obscure meaning hidden behind the words, or a code, anything, to explain why Blaine was being this way.</p><p class="western">He didn't find anything, except for the realization that he was losing him.</p><hr/><p class="western">For a few weeks, Blaine refused to accept reality, and close the book store, desperate to believe it could still be saved. There was still hope. There should always be hope...</p><p class="western">He made lists. He wrote down every single idea that might turn it around. Maybe he could organize special events: a popular author's book-signing, or puppets performing classic children books. There had to be <em>something </em>that could attract the attention of the people in this town. He would do whatever he had to do...</p><p class="western">During the nights when he couldn't sleep (that was most of them, at this point), Blaine thought, brainstormed, hoped. He sat in his bed (it was so big and lonely without Kurt curled up next to him), and stared at the list of ideas, wondering if at least one of them could work.</p><p class="western">He needed something to hold on to. He couldn't save his mother, and he couldn't be with Kurt, but he would try everything to save the only other thing that meant something to him, the only thing that still gave him purpose.</p><hr/><p class="western">"I would just like to say that you're overreacting," Heather said from where she sat on the couch, three fluffy pillows around her to keep her comfortable and a soft blanket thrown over her legs. "I don't have a cold, Blaine. I don't need all of this."</p><p class="western">"No, you have something much worse than a cold," he murmured, putting the tray he was carrying on the coffee table before passing his mother a bowl of pasta. "So stop complaining and eat."</p><p class="western">Heather sighed and accepted her dinner gratefully. It had been a bad day, and she was tired. She could tease all she wanted, but at the end of the day, she was so grateful she could count on Blaine. "I'm eating, I'm eating," she replied, and took a morsel as if to prove a point. Then she mostly watched Blaine as he twirled and chased his pasta around, barely eating anything himself. She could see that he looked almost as tired as she did, with dark marks under his eyes. She hadn't seen a smile on his face in much too long now, his lips always turned down into a sad expression. "Is there something else wrong, darling?"</p><p class="western">He immediately perked up, trying to look cheerful and carefree, but he couldn't fool her. "Nothing's wrong, Mom. Everything's fine."</p><p class="western">"Of <em>course </em>it is," she said, disbelievingly. She scooted closer to him. "Come on, dear. Talk to me."</p><p class="western">"Mom, there's nothing to talk about," he inserted a ravioli into his mouth and chewed industriously, trying to look busy.</p><p class="western">"Is it Kurt?"</p><p class="western">Blaine's breath hitched for a moment, like every time he heard his name. God, he missed him, and he needed him so badly. But he had refrained from telling him exactly what was going on in his life. He knew Kurt; he would get on a plane and come back to Lima to support him, aware of how much losing both his mother and his store hurt. And Blaine refused to be the reason Kurt returned to Lima. He couldn't bear to have Kurt return to the place he hated so much, even if it was just for a few days.</p><p class="western">"It is, isn't it?" Heather insisted. Blaine realized she wasn't going to give up on this conversation.</p><p class="western">He sighed and stopped pretending he was hungry at all. He pushed his bowl away and flopped back against the cushions. "It's not just Kurt. It's everything. I miss him like crazy, and I knew what it was going to be like, but it is still hard to deal with it, with not seeing him, not talking to him. He barely has time to email me every now and then, and even though he told me he didn't want to lose me, I feel like I've already lost him." He rubbed his tired eyes with the heel of his hand. "And then... I'm so worried about you, Mom."</p><p class="western">"Oh, Blaine. You don't have to be. I'm fine..." she said softly.</p><p class="western">And that obvious lie made Blaine explode. "You're <em>not </em>fine! You're dying! You're in pain most of the time and you think I don't notice! I keep thinking of ways to help you but there's nothing I can do and that's killing me! I've already lost Dad, and that was hard enough, but losing you is absolutely devastating!"</p><p class="western">Heather covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a sob. "I'm so sorry I'm putting you through this..."</p><p class="western">"No, Mom, no..." he kneeled next to her, grabbed her hand. "I don't... I don't blame you. You have nothing to apologize for. I just don't understand why bad things keep happening to us. To you. You're the kindest person I know, and I wish you didn't have to go through this."</p><p class="western">"Better people go through worse every day," Heather said quietly. "We can't choose these things, Blaine, we can only make the best out of the lives we've got."</p><p class="western">"How come you're so calm?" He asked, frowning, as a couple of tears slid down his cheeks.</p><p class="western">"What's the point in getting upset? Do I really want to spend the time I have left being mad at something I can't change?" Heather wrapped her arm around his shoulder and pulled until Blaine put his head on his mother's lap. "I'd rather enjoy the beautiful things in life. Like my wonderful son."</p><p class="western">"I'm not wonderful," Blaine scoffed. "I'm boring, and quiet, and most people don't understand me."</p><p class="western">"I do, because I'm your mother and I love you," she replied firmly, running her fingers through his curls. "And I know for a fact that you're wonderful. The most wonderful boy I've ever met..."</p><p class="western">"Mom..." he started to protest, but she silenced him instantly.</p><p class="western">"You <em>are</em>, Blaine. And even when I'm not here to remind you, you'll still be wonderful," she leaned down to kiss his temple. "Don't be sad for the things you can't change, Blaine. There's still so much ahead of you to do. Maybe you and Kurt will find your way back to each other. Maybe you'll meet someone else who's going to turn your world upside down. And you have your book store, that..." She stopped when she saw Blaine closing his eyes, almost wincing at her words. "Dear?"</p><p class="western">"Soon there won't be a book store anymore, Mom," he confessed softly. "It's not working."</p><p class="western">"Oh, Blaine. I'm so sorry to hear that. Are you sure?"</p><p class="western">"Yeah. I've been trying to get people interested with some special events, but... it's hopeless. I should've known it was all in vain."</p><p class="western">"It wasn't in vain," she said, with such conviction that it made him look up at her. "Think of all the amazing experiences you had because of this bookshop. I'm sure you can think of at least one that makes it all worthwhile…"</p><p class="western">Blaine didn't have to think long. The word slipped through his lips, soft as velvet, sweet as honey. "Kurt."</p><p class="western">"Kurt," she confirmed with a nod and a smile.</p><p class="western">"But he's gone now," Blaine frowned, as he scooted closer into his mother's embrace. "Wasn't meeting him still worth it? Wasn't it still beautiful to share what you had with him?"</p><p class="western">Blaine thought, <em>yes</em>. With Kurt, he had loved someone – he still did, oh, so deeply – in a way he hadn't even known it was possible to love. He had learnt to be vulnerable, to simply be himself with someone; to bare every last secret in his soul, to be accepted; to be cherished. He had learnt to be happy, and without a doubt in the world, he would go through the pain a thousand times over if it meant he got to experience that feeling again, even for just a second.</p><p class="western">He didn't need to answer. Heather understood.</p><hr/><p class="western">Since Kurt was now the only one who hadn't screwed anything up (<em>yet</em>, he reminded himself), he was in charge of bringing coffee to the big names at Vogue. Every morning, he went to the Starbucks just around the corner, making sure to be there in time to get in line with the other New Yorkers in desperate need of caffeine, to put their steaming hot selections on the desks of the people he needed to impress.</p><p class="western">One would think ordering coffee was a simple enough task, but it wasn't. It really wasn't. Kurt had never met people who were as selective and precise about the way they wanted their coffees before. If it had been anyone else, he would have rolled his eyes and told them to get them themselves, but since these were the people that held his future in his hands, he was always careful to get everyone exactly what they wanted, exactly when they wanted it.</p><p class="western">This was the reason why, when he woke up that morning and realized his alarm hadn't gone off, he instantly shrieked, and elbowed Rachel out of his way to get to the bathroom before her, yelling his apologies over his shoulder.</p><p class="western">He <em>couldn't </em>be late. Being late when you were an intern at Vogue was not only frowned upon, it was a giant step closer to being fired. The competition with the other interns was getting so intense, their bosses were watching them more and more attentively every day, seeking out every flaw, every failure. Kurt was terrified of being the next one forced to clean out his desk, and slink out with his head lowered in share…</p><p class="western">He rushed into Starbucks a mere five minutes before he had to be at the office. He hadn't styled his hair and he was pretty sure he was wearing socks that didn't match, but he really couldn't do much about those things now. The only thing he could do was to step at the end of the long (<em>oh gosh, why is it so long?</em>) line and hope the baristas hurried the fuck up so he wouldn't be <em>too </em>terribly late, but it wasn't looking good. Kurt was <em>this </em>close to crying in frustration and sheer fear.</p><p class="western">"Kurt?"</p><p class="western">He turned at the sound of his name to find his usual barista, standing next to him with a stack of paper cups he had apparently just gotten from the backroom. His name was Scott, and he always greeted him with a friendly smile. That counted for a lot in Kurt's book.</p><p class="western">"Hi," Kurt said, breathlessly.</p><p class="western">"Are you okay?" Scott tilted his head to the side, emerald eyes roaming Kurt's uncharacteristically disheveled appearance.</p><p class="western">"Not really. I have to be at work in less than five minutes with my boss' coffee orders and I'm pretty sure I'm going to get fired, because I'll never make it, and I think I'm about to have a nervous breakdown," Kurt muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.</p><p class="western">Scott eyed him for a moment, thoughtful. "Hazelnut machiatto, latte with soy milk and an extra shot of espresso and a chai tea, right?"</p><p class="western">Kurt blinked in surprise. He went there every day, but so did a <em>lot </em>of other people. It was sort of remarkable that Scott could remember his order so well. "Yes, that's exactly right."</p><p class="western">Scott gave him a quick little smile. "Come over here with me."</p><p class="western">Kurt followed, clutching the strap of his messenger bag like a lifeline. "What? Why?"</p><p class="western">"Just… come on," Scott rolled his eyes.</p><p class="western">Kurt stood by the end of the counter, away from where the rest of the customers were getting their drinks, anxiously staring at the clock hanging on the wall, wondering why Scott asked him to wait here. He only had a few minutes. Oh god, he was going to be on a flight back to Ohio tonight, wasn't he?</p><p class="western">Scott suddenly reappeared again, presenting a cup holder to him with four cups in it. "Here they are. I added a mocha for you because I think you really need one this morning. Now go!"</p><p class="western">"I… oh my god, you're amazing," Kurt mumbled disbelievingly. He began rummaging in his bag for his wallet. "You're my favorite barista <em>ever</em>. They should build statues in your honor. Oh my god, you've saved my life. Where the hell is my…?"</p><p class="western">"It's on me," Scott said, placing a hand on Kurt's forearm to stop him. "Just go, run, try not to get fired."</p><p class="western">"But… why… I…" Kurt's eyes went wide.</p><p class="western">"I'd like to say it's completely selfless, but it isn't," Scott bit his lip, in more of a flirty way than out of nerves. "I've been dying to ask you out since you walked through that door for the first time."</p><p class="western">For a moment, Kurt completely forgot his hurry to get to work. He wasn't used to guys openly coming on to him like that, in the middle of a coffee shop. He hadn't even thought about dating since he had arrived in New York.</p><p class="western">Scott was a few inches taller than him, his hair was a beautiful sand blonde, and he had a broad, strong back. He was a classically attractive guy, and he was always really sweet when they talked, albeit briefly, while he made Kurt's order.</p><p class="western">Kurt thought about Blaine. He thought about how different he'd been lately, how distant they were, how they were supposed to be just friends now. His first instinct was to say no, but then he realized… if Blaine was moving on, Kurt had to do the same.</p><p class="western">"Yes, I'd love to," he smiled brightly.</p><p class="western">"Great," Scott beamed happily. "Now go, go, go! You can give me your number later, if you have time to come here for your lunch break? Or maybe tomorrow morning, if you can't stop by before. But now go!"</p><p class="western">Kurt didn't say another word. He just simply smiled at him again, and then ran out of the shop, careful not to spill the coffee.</p><p class="western">He made it to work just in time, and distributed the drinks, relieved that he still had his job and, better yet, he also had a date.</p><hr/><p class="western">Blaine could be as blind as he pleased, but there were some things he couldn't ignore any longer. Closing the book store was one of them.</p><p class="western">It was inevitable. He tried everything he could think of. He worked his hardest, but in the end… he decided he was just putting extra stress on himself that he couldn't deal with right now.</p><p class="western">He donated the children's books to hospitals and schools, donated the furniture to Habitat for Humanity, and sold everything else.</p><p class="western">The day he closed the door for the last time, empty and sadder than he had ever seen it before, he cried. He sat on the wooden floor looking around for a long time, and let out all the pain. He cried because his lifelong dream had failed, because his mother was getting worse every day, because he was losing one of the last things that linked him to Kurt. His heart was broken in more pieces than he could count. This wasn't something he could fix so easily.</p><p class="western">Maybe it wasn't something he could fix at all.</p><hr/><p class="western">Since Kurt always worked on the weekends, they arranged their date for a Thursday night. Kurt was genuinely excited about the prospect of going out with the handsome barista.</p><p class="western">Rachel helped him choose something nice to wear (truthfully, he just let her think she helped, since all of her suggestions deserved an arched eyebrow from him, because… really? Those boots with that sweater? What was she even thinking?). But she actually did provide moral support: she knew him so well, and was aware of the internal battle he was dealing with, even if he hadn't mentioned it. She could see him glancing at his phone or his computer every now and then, hoping for a message from Blaine.</p><p class="western">"You deserve to go out and have some fun," she said as she kissed his cheek. "No one says you have to marry this guy. Going out on a date won't commit you to anything. It's fun, that's all. You've been working hard, and it'll be nice to dedicate one night to a nice evening with someone new."</p><p class="western">Kurt sighed as he wrapped one of his favorite silk scarves around his neck, and then turned to face her, with a little smile on his face. "I really missed you, you know."</p><p class="western">Her eyes filled with tears (like every time they acknowledged everything that had happened) and hugged him tightly before he could protest about her wrinkling his shirt.</p><p class="western">He was literally saved by the bell. Rachel jumped away from him and ran to the front door to be the one to welcome Scott into their apartment. As Kurt gave the finishing touches to his outfit, he could hear Rachel interrogating him. He rolled his eyes fondly and went to rescue him before she scared him away.</p><p class="western">Scott's dazzling smile when he saw him made warmth spread all over Kurt. After a few polite pleasantries, they said goodbye to Rachel and left. Scott said he hoped Kurt would like the restaurant he'd chosen as they walked together to the subway lit by the beautiful New York night lights.</p><p class="western">They went to a Thai restaurant that Kurt hadn't had a chance to try yet, and there wasn't a single moment of awkward silence. Scott was very nice. He was also charming and funny and listened to everything Kurt had to say, appearing to be sincerely interested in his life, his job, his family. The conversation flowed between them easily, and Kurt found himself smiling and laughing and having a great time. It had been a really good idea to go out with Scott, and he was already planning on seeing him again.</p><p class="western">They went out for a little walk afterwards, regretting they both had to be up very early in the morning for work. As they were about to cross the street, Scott reached for Kurt's hand, and tangled their fingers together lightly, giving him the chance to pull away if he wanted. Kurt looked down at their hands and then squeezed lightly. It felt nice to be able to walk around the city holding hands with a man without people giving them a second glance.</p><p class="western">Tomorrow's early morning meant the date had to end a lot sooner than either of them would have wanted. Scott, like a perfect gentleman, walked him back to his apartment, and if they stood a little closer to each other in the subway than was necessary, neither of them mentioned it.</p><p class="western">They stood facing each other at the apartment's door, both a little bashful now, because this felt a little awkward. Kurt decided to break the ice.</p><p class="western">"Thanks for tonight," he said softly. "I'm really glad we did this."</p><p class="western">"Me too," Scott smiled. "I'd love to go out with you again, if you'd like?"</p><p class="western">Kurt fidgeted with his keys, anticipating what was coming next. "That would be lovely."</p><p class="western">"Great," Scott seemed truly happy that Kurt wanted to see him again. He took a deep breath and a few seconds of uneasy silence hung between them. "I… would it be okay if I kiss you goodnight, Kurt?"</p><p class="western">Kurt couldn't find the right words, so he simply nodded, and then leaned forward slightly, waiting for Scott to close the rest of the distance.</p><p class="western">As soon as their lips met, Kurt's breath hitched, but for all the wrong reasons. Yes, Scott's lips were gentle against his and the way he cupped his cheek was perfect but… it wasn't right. There weren't any dark curls for Kurt to run his fingers through; Scott's eyelashes weren't long enough to brush against Kurt's skin when his eyes fluttered shut; the way his hand gripped his waist wasn't safe and familiar; his taste was foreign and, though not unpleasant, not what Kurt was used to.</p><p class="western">Scott wasn't Blaine.</p><p class="western">Kurt pulled away abruptly, staring at Scott with wide, shocked eyes.</p><p class="western">Scott frowned a little sadly. "There's someone else you'd rather be with, isn't there?"</p><p class="western">"I…" Kurt swallowed. "What?"</p><p class="western">"I can tell," Scott shrugged and leaned against the wall, with a sigh of acceptance. "I can tell there's someone you haven't gotten over yet."</p><p class="western">Kurt closed his eyes, slumped against the wall next to him and sighed. "I'm sorry, Scott. I…"</p><p class="western">"No, don't be," Scott turned to face him, and Kurt could see there was no resentment there. "Look, Kurt… I really, really like you, and I'd love to see you again and get to know you better. But I don't want to be a rebound or whatever…"</p><p class="western">"No! I wouldn't… I wouldn't do that to you, Scott. You're a fantastic guy…"</p><p class="western">"And since I'm such a fantastic guy," Scott said teasingly, rolling his eyes at himself, "I'll give you all the time you need. If you decide you're ready for whatever this between us might be, you know where to find me. I'll be very glad to take you out on a second date, and a third and a fourth."</p><p class="western">Before Kurt could reply, Scott kissed him quickly, and with one last smile he walked away, leaving Kurt alone in the hallway, wondering if he'd finally learned the reason for that constant yearning feeling in his chest he couldn't seem to shake.</p><hr/><p class="western"><b>To</b>: <a href="mailto:blaine.anderson@gmail.com">blaine.anderson@gmail.com</a></p><p class="western">
  <b>From: </b>
  <a href="mailto:khummel@vogue.com">khummel@vogue.com</a>
</p><p class="western"><b>Subject: </b>[No Subject]</p><p class="western">Blaine,</p><p class="western">I'm worried because I haven't heard from you in a while. I know you said you were really busy, but… if I have to be honest, I don't really believe that. I don't know why you're pushing me away like this, but please, just talk to me and explain what's going on. Give me a reason why I can't be a part of your life anymore.</p><p class="western">When I told you I didn't want to lose you, I meant it. I believed you when you told me you didn't want to lose me, either. I don't know what happened after I left, and I don't know at what point you stopped missing me and moved on, but I'd like to understand.</p><p class="western">I met someone. His name is Scott, and he works at the Starbucks where I go every morning before going to the office. He's really sweet and attractive, and he asked me out. We went out for dinner tonight, and the first thing I did when I came home was to write this email to you. There's so much I want to tell you, so much I wish I could say to your face… but since we have no other choice, this will have to do.</p><p class="western">He was amazing – the date was amazing. And yet, when he walked me home, when he kissed me… I thought only of you. I thought of the guy who hasn't talked to me in weeks, the guy I'm supposed to be just friends with.</p><p class="western">So I need to know. I need to know if you're saying goodbye to me, if I'm not even allowed to consider you my friend any longer. Because if everything between us is over, then I need to move on the same way you've obviously moved on already.</p><p class="western">And if it isn't over, if something else is going on, if you haven't forgotten about me the way it feels that you have, I need to know that, too. Because I'm in love with you, Blaine, and if there's even the slightest chance that I can keep you in my life, I'll take it.</p><p class="western">Please, just don't keep me in the dark any longer. I need to know. I miss you. I need you. I love you.</p><p class="western">K.-</p><hr/><p class="western">For a few days, Kurt checked his email almost obsessively.</p><p class="western">Blaine had to reply, and tell him one way or the other how he felt, right? Even if what he had to say wasn't what Kurt wanted to hear, he would reply. Kurt had told him he was in love with him, so even if he needed to gently let him down, Blaine <em>had </em>to reply.</p><p class="western">But as the days passed, as Blaine's silence became heavier and more painful with every second that went by, Kurt gradually understood. There wasn't any hope left. Blaine's silence was his way of telling him he didn't feel the same.</p><p class="western">Kurt's heart broke into a million pieces, because for the first time he had allowed himself to fall in love with someone, and instead of bringing him the joy he thought he had been denying himself all this time, it brought him even more pain.</p><p class="western">Kurt was so tired of being hurt.</p><p class="western">Maybe it wouldn't hurt as much once he accepted that he and Blaine were over.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Blaine stood to shake the hand the dean had extended to him.</p><p class="western">"It's nice to see you again, Blaine," the older man said with a kind smile.</p><p class="western">"Thank you, sir. It's always a pleasure coming back to Dalton," Blaine answered with a smile of his own, though his didn't reach his eyes.</p><p class="western">He hadn't smiled genuinely in months.</p><p class="western">Mr. Ellington invited him into his office and offered him tea or coffee. Blaine declined any refreshments politely, as he took a seat on the opposite side of the mahogany desk. It was a large office, a gracious testament to the kind of school Dalton was: grand, elegant, and prestigious. Not everyone could be at ease at Dalton. Even if Blaine seldom felt like he fit anywhere else, something about this school had always been comforting. That something didn't have anything to do with the social and cultural background of the people who attended the school, but more with the aura of acceptance that permeated the campus.</p><p class="western">"How's the new business doing?" Mr. Ellington asked in an interested, almost paternal tone. He was a sophisticated man, probably old enough to be Blaine's grandfather but he still enjoyed his position too much to retire.</p><p class="western">"It didn't work out well, unfortunately," Blaine explained, trying to ignore the painful pang in his chest. He still wasn't over it. "And that's the reason why I'm here." He sat up straighter. "I was wondering if there's any possibility I can resume my position."</p><p class="western">"Well, of course we hired someone else when the school year began," the dean said, apologetically. "I would love to take you back, Blaine, but the truth is the new librarian is doing a wonderful job, and I have no reason to replace her."</p><p class="western">"I understand," Blaine answered, trying not to show his disappointment. "I was sure that would be the situation, but I had to come and ask anyway."</p><p class="western">"I'll be more than happy to give you glowing references to assist you in your search for another position, and I'll call you if the position should become available again," Mr. Ellington seemed truly sorry he couldn't do anything for him. "You've been part of the Dalton family for so many years already, since you were just fifteen years old, so I'll do whatever's in my power to help you."</p><p class="western">"Thank you," Blaine smiled at him. "I really appreciate that. I'll let you know if I need any letters of recommendation."</p><p class="western">Mr. Ellington walked him out and they shook hands again before Blaine left the office and made his way down the long corridor. He had already known the answer, but he still wanted to let the dean know he was available, in case something came up.</p><p class="western">Blaine actually didn't want to start working anywhere right away. He still had sufficient money left from his inheritance, so he wouldn't be in any financial troubles if he took some sabbatical time. Right now, it was a lot more important to him to be available to care for his mother.</p><p class="western">Blaine had moved back into his parents' house a week ago. Heather's health had been going quickly downhill, and he didn't want her to be alone. She needed constant care now and even though she had suggested they could hire a nurse, he had put his foot down. He was her son, and he would be there for her for as long as she needed him.</p><p class="western">As a consequence, he was constantly on call now. Blaine tried not to show how sad he was in front of his mother, but it became harder every day to hide it, because his anguish was slowly consuming him.</p><p class="western">And the only person that he knew would make him feel better, was the one person he couldn't contact, because he refused to taint Kurt's well deserved happiness with the misery of his own life.</p><p class="western">He just needed to be strong, and patient, and let Kurt enjoy his own life.</p><p class="western">Even if he often felt like he couldn't breathe without him, Blaine had to stay away.</p><hr/><p class="western">People were leaving the conference room once the meeting was over, chatting animatedly, most of them making plans for their lunch break. Kurt stayed behind to clean up, disposing of half consumed cups of coffee and crumpled balls of paper, since there was another meeting scheduled for later in the day.</p><p class="western">Once done, he headed towards his small cubicle, balancing a note pad, a sketchbook and a huge, heavy binder all in one arm as he used his free hand to enter reminders on his phone: pick up his boss' dress from the dry-cleaner's later, make dinner reservations for another of his bosses, and buy fabrics that were needed for a photo shoot the next afternoon. He hoped he'd have enough time to consider some fabrics for Carly's wedding dress while he was there, too. He had emailed her several designs and she was very close to making her final choice. With the very little spare time he had, he needed to start working on it as soon as possible, or it wouldn't be ready for the wedding.</p><p class="western">He was about to catch up on his emails (trying not to be disappointed by the lack of one particular person's message in his inbox) when his phone rang. After a quick glance at his father's picture displayed on the screen, he picked it up.</p><p class="western">"Hey Dad!"</p><p class="western">"Hi, kiddo. Is this a good time to talk?" Burt said on the other end.</p><p class="western">"It's always a good time to talk to you, Dad," Kurt answered, happy to hear his voice. Being in New York was amazing, but he couldn't deny how much he missed his family. "How are you doing?"</p><p class="western">"I'm fine." Kurt could hear the sounds of the garage in the background. If he closed his eyes he could almost pretend he was there in his father's office. "How's work?"</p><p class="western">"Ridiculously busy, but I love it," Kurt replied, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear and using his hands to type quickly. "Apparently we'll find out in a couple of weeks or so which of the interns they're keeping and promoting to a permanent position. I'm nervous, but I'm doing my best."</p><p class="western">"I'm sure it'll be you," Burt said without hesitation. "No one in this world could want or deserve this more than you, Kurt."</p><p class="western">"That's sweet of you to say, Dad, but I can't take anything for granted," Kurt sighed. He was really stressed just thinking about having to leave Vogue, but there was no way he was ever going back to Ohio now – he'd stay in New York even if he had to be a waiter forever – but having to start over, dealing with another failure… he certainly wasn't looking forward to that. "How's everyone else doing?"</p><p class="western">"We're all okay," Burt said, but there was something in his voice that made Kurt doubtful. "Though I'm actually calling to ask you about how Blaine is doing."</p><p class="western">Kurt's heart clenched in his chest, sending pain all over him. He swallowed, trying to remain calm. "What do you mean, how is Blaine? Has something happened?"</p><p class="western">"Well, I drove by his book store this morning, and it's gone."</p><p class="western">Kurt was sure he had heard wrong. He frowned in confusion. "What do you mean <em>gone</em>?"</p><p class="western">"It's closed, and empty, as in, he closed down the business," Burt explained, and it was obvious from his tone that he was confused, too. "Wait, you didn't <em>know </em>about this? Didn't Blaine tell you he was going to close it down?"</p><p class="western">"No," Kurt grabbed his phone in a tight grip. "I… we aren't really talking. He just… he sort of stopped talking to me weeks ago."</p><p class="western">There was a pause on the other end. "Oh, I see."</p><p class="western">"Dad?" Kurt hadn't expected his voice to sound so shaky. "Do you think something terrible happened to him?"</p><p class="western">"I'm sure he's fine, kiddo," Burt tried to sound reassuring. "There are book stores closing all over the country, with all this digital downloading stuff taking over the market. It probably just didn't succeed, in such a small town."</p><p class="western">"He must be absolutely heartbroken…" Kurt whispered, sadly.</p><p class="western">"What happened between you two anyway? Are you guys okay?" Burt asked, concerned.</p><p class="western">"I'm… I'll be fine," Kurt decided to be honest. "Maybe it's too hard dealing with the distance. We tried to keep our friendship going but… we're both busy." He closed his eyes for a moment. "I don't actually know exactly why he stopped talking to me. But I assume that's why."</p><p class="western">"I'm sorry, Kurt. I liked Blaine. He was really good for you. You two were good for each other."</p><p class="western">Kurt was <em>not </em>going to break down and cry at his work place. "Maybe we weren't as good for each other as we thought we were."</p><p class="western">He knew it was a lie, but it was easier to deal with that, than dealing with the idea of Blaine not caring anymore, not returning his feelings. Kurt preferred to believe so, at least.</p><p class="western">Either way, it still hurt.</p><hr/><p class="western">That night, Kurt stared down at his phone for a few minutes, before finally making up his mind and pressing on the screen to make the call. He waited, holding his breath, as he listened to the tones, but Blaine never picked up. It went to voicemail, but Kurt didn't want to leave a message – the things he had to say were too personal and required answers that an automated voice would never be able to give him.</p><p class="western">He sighed and put his phone down. Maybe Blaine would call back later.</p><hr/><p class="western">Blaine watched the phone as it rang. Kurt's picture was staring back at him and it made his heart pound painfully in his chest. His fingers clenched as they ached to reach for the phone and take the call, but Blaine needed to be strong.</p><p class="western">He knew why Kurt was calling, but in the mess his life had become, he couldn't find the strength or the time to deal with anything else. It hurt to let him go, to reject him like this, but Blaine was reaching his limit. He couldn't face Kurt; he just couldn't.</p><p class="western">The phone screen went black again after a moment. He didn't return the call.</p><hr/><p class="western">There was a warm cup of tea on the nightstand and a book open on his lap. Blaine was sitting back against the pillows, with his glasses pushed all the way up on his nose, his hazel eyes scanned the page, in something akin to contentment.</p><p class="western">It was in moments like this when Blaine managed to forget, at least for a few minutes, how much everything sucked in his life. Maybe that was the reason why he had been practically devouring a new book after every night, because he needed a refuge, an escape.</p><p class="western">He needed Kurt.</p><p class="western">No. He shook his head to persuade himself. No. No matter how bad things were, he wouldn't let Kurt know what was going on. Perhaps someday, in the future, when he'd had time to heal, when the wounds weren't so fresh, when Kurt wouldn't feel obligated to be at Blaine's side to support him.</p><p class="western">For now, books would have to be his entire support system.</p><p class="western">He was just turning the page to start a new chapter when he heard it. It was so weak and low, he almost missed, but in the silence of the night, he heard his mother calling for him.</p><p class="western">Blaine immediately rushed down the hallway to the master bedroom. "I'm coming, Mom!" He said.</p><p class="western">The bedside lamp was on when he entered the room and Heather was slightly propped up against the headboard. She looked pale and distressed. Blaine was at her side in a second, reaching for her hand.</p><p class="western">"What is it, Mom?" He asked, alarmed.</p><p class="western">"Dear…" She said in a hoarse voice. "I don't want you to freak out right now… but I think it's time for me to move to the hospice, okay?"</p><p class="western">Blaine inhaled sharply, but didn't let his fear show. "O-of course. Tell me, Mom. Are you in pain?"</p><p class="western">"Yes, dear," she nodded heavily.</p><p class="western">"Okay. I'll go call an ambulance and I'll be right back. Just a moment, Mom."</p><p class="western">She closed her eyes as he left the room. Blaine swallowed every fear, every sob, every feeling threatening to break him, and forced himself to be what his mother needed him to be.</p><p class="western">They only had each other. He had to be strong for her now.</p><hr/><p class="western">It was well past midnight when Heather was finally settled into her room at the Lantern Light Cancer Hospice. Blaine stood close the entire time, holding her hand whenever he could, and wishing he could take away at least some of her pain.</p><p class="western">While Heather was getting an IV to keep her hydrated and administer the stronger pain medication she needed now, her doctor pulled Blaine aside.</p><p class="western">"We'll do our best to keep her as comfortable as possible, Mr. Anderson," she said with a sad smile. "But from now on... we wait."</p><p class="western">Blaine took a deep breath and nodded, slowly. "How long?"</p><p class="western">"We can't be sure. As long as her heart holds out," the doctor told him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "It could be hours, days, maybe a week or two."</p><p class="western">Blaine removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay. Well... I want to stay with her until... until it happens."</p><p class="western">"Of course," she said kindly. "I'll send a nurse in regularly to check on her. If there's anything we can do, let us know."</p><p class="western">The doctor left and Blaine allowed himself a few seconds to breathe. A few tears made their way down his cheeks, but he immediately wiped them away. He didn't have time to cry.</p><p class="western">He was grateful his mother had a private room in a place like this, and that he was able to stay with her. He sent a silent thank you to his father for the money that made this possible. If these were the last days he would have with his mother, he wanted them to be peaceful ones.</p><p class="western">Heather's eyes were closed when he approached the bed, but when she heard him, she opened them and smiled at him tiredly. "Hi, darling."</p><p class="western">"Hi, Mom," he did his best to smile. "You should get some sleep. It's late."</p><p class="western">"<em>You </em>should go home and get some sleep," she said instead. "You can come back tomorrow."</p><p class="western">"I'll be fine. Don't worry about me," he ran his fingers through her hair, so thin and lifeless.</p><p class="western">It was obvious she wanted to protest, but the exhaustion and the medication defeated her. She was asleep before she even noticed her eyes were fluttering shut again.</p><p class="western">Blaine stood, watching her quietly. In just a few days, she seemed to have aged decades. Blaine had never seen her as old – she was too elegant, too strong; too energetic for that word. It saddened him that she would leave the world this way. Someone like Heather Anderson shouldn't be consumed by pain and death like this.</p><p class="western">Once he was sure she was deeply asleep, he moved to the armchair near the bed and sunk there heavily. He was tired too, and felt so helpless and defeated. He wished he had a shoulder to lean onto; someone who could hold him and rub his back soothingly while whispering that he would be okay.</p><p class="western">On solitary, painful nights like this, he missed Kurt the most.</p><hr/><p class="western">Heather slept quite peacefully for the rest of the night. Blaine managed to doze off several times, and even though one of the nurses brought a cot for him, he stayed close to the bed on the armchair, with a blanket wrapped around himself keeping a vigil.</p><p class="western">By the time morning came, he was tired, and sore from sleeping upright for so long. Heather convinced him to go get a cup of coffee while the doctor did her morning check. Blaine reluctantly agreed, recognizing he was going to need a lot of caffeine in the next few days.</p><hr/><p class="western">Blaine soon became well acquainted with most of the staff. All of the nurses liked him because he was always polite and eager to help in whatever way he could. He was also charming and attractive, so it didn't take long for the younger nurses (and sometimes even the older ones, too) to start noticing him.</p><p class="western">He didn't notice them. He was too busy, holding Heather's hand, and worrying. It was so unsettling, not knowing when the worst was going to happen. Knowing each breath could be her last had him constantly on edge, and afraid to leave the room.</p><p class="western">"I'm fine, my silly boy," Heather assured him sweetly, pressing her palm against his cheek lightly. Her lips curled in a pale ghost of a smile. "Nothing terrible will happen if you go home, get some rest and decent food. I'll still be here when you come back."</p><p class="western">Blaine didn't want to tell her that maybe she <em>wouldn't </em>be there anymore. Even thinking about it was too hard. So he simply shook his head and tried to sound convincing when he told her he had taken a nap while she was asleep, or that he had bought a burger at the cafeteria earlier. She was too weak to argue with him.</p><p class="western">When she was resting and sleep eluded him, Blaine read. Losing himself in the pages of familiar books gave him a sense of normalcy that he desperately needed right now. Hugging a hard cover book against his chest when he was feeling down was the nearest thing to having someone's hand to hold. Books were his only comfort, and Blaine knew that soon... they would be all he had left.</p><p class="western">Books had always been his happy place, but now even they seemed somber.</p><hr/><p class="western">"Sometimes I wonder... how your father would have coped if he was still here."</p><p class="western">Blaine startled at the sound of his mother's voice. He had thought she was asleep, so he had been, once again, reading. But she was clearly wide awake, staring up at the ceiling with her hands flat on the bed.</p><p class="western">"A lot of things would've been different if he was here," Blaine replied quietly.</p><p class="western">"Yes, but not this," Heather said thoughtfully. "This would've happened either way. And, to be honest, I'm glad he left first. Mark wasn't good at dealing with illnesses, or sadness. It would've killed him to have to go through this."</p><p class="western">"We don't have to talk about that now, Mom," Blaine muttered, scooting the chair he was sitting on closer to the bed. "We can talk about happy things."</p><p class="western">"Oh my poor dear," she tilted her head to the side to look at him. "What happy things are there? I've always wished your life was full of nothing but happiness, but lately..."</p><p class="western">"I'm okay," he reassured her, like he did every time his unhappiness was brought into the conversation. "It's been a rough few months, but I'll get over it."</p><p class="western">"I'm just making everything worse. I have you here attached to me, keeping you a prisoner with an invisible chain..." she sighed bitterly. "You're so young, Blaine, still so young. You shouldn't be wasting your time sitting by my bedside."</p><p class="western">"I'm here because I love you," he said firmly. "That's not wasting my time."</p><p class="western">"Every second you're here it's another second where you don't smile," Heather insisted. "I haven't seen you smile properly in such a long time..."</p><p class="western">"That's not true. I always smile when I'm with you," he protested.</p><p class="western">The way Heather looked at him was that of a mother who can read her son's thoughts without a single word needing to be said. "Oh darling. I mean a <em>real </em>smile. You haven't smiled sincerely since Kurt left."</p><p class="western">"Mom, please," his voice was pleading. "I don't want to talk about Kurt. Not now."</p><p class="western">With another sigh, Heather gave in and nodded. "Fine. But I do want to talk about your happiness."</p><p class="western">Blaine sat back in his chair, resignation creeping over him. The woman might be dying, but she could still be stubborn.</p><p class="western">"I know you're sad right now. I know you don't believe life can be good again... but it <em>can</em>, Blaine. I know it will be." She extended her hand, reaching for his. Blaine slipped his hand into hers immediately. "It's okay to be sad because the people we love are leaving us, but don't let this moment of sadness define the rest of your life. Your life is a collection of moments, both good and bad, and you only get to see the full picture at the end, you only get to decide if it was a good or a bad life at the end."</p><p class="western">Blaine wasn't sure what to say to that, so he didn't say anything. He simply watched her: the shape of her eyes, the faded color that had lost its sparkle in the past few weeks, her hair falling on the pillow, the light weight of her hand in his.</p><p class="western">"I can see the full picture of my life now, and it's such a good picture, Blaine," she said, and her smile was the brightest that it had been in a while. "I had your father, and I had you, and I was very happy. I was happy because I got to love and be loved."</p><p class="western">"I love you so much, Mom," Blaine whispered, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. It was as if the past few weeks - <em>months </em>- had finally dropped onto his shoulders, and he was now carrying a load way too heavy for a man as small as he was. He felt breathless, hopeless.</p><p class="western">"I love you, too, Blaine."</p><p class="western">They stayed silent for a moment, just gazing into each other's eyes. Blaine rested his forehead on the bed next to her side, and she started running her fingers through his unkempt curls, humming softly to herself.</p><p class="western">"If I could go back in time, I'd do it all over again, just the same way I did it," she muttered and Blaine turned his head slightly so he could look at her. "I have no regrets, and that's more than a lot of people can say at the end of their lives, Blaine." She gave him a pointed look. "Don't be one of those people. You have plenty of time to do what you want to do. Your dreams are all still out there. Just go chase them, honey."</p><p class="western">"I'm not sure I even know what my dreams <em>are </em>anymore," he murmured. He felt so lost and hurt.</p><p class="western">"Of course you do, Blaine. You just got distracted and can't remember right now. But you do <em>know</em>," her eyes were so sure that he believed her. "You'll remember what they are as soon as you let yourself stop mourning for the things that went wrong."</p><p class="western">He raised their joined hands as he straightened up, and brought them to his lips so he could kiss the back of hers. "You're talking too much and you should be resting."</p><p class="western">"Resting is all I can do," she complained half-heartedly. "Talking to my beautiful son won't do me any harm." She paused, and then frowned, her fingers tightening around Blaine's for a moment. "B-but you know what? I could really use some cold water. Would you please bring me some, darling?"</p><p class="western">"Yes, of course," he immediately stood up to refill her pitcher at the ice and water dispenser down the hall. "I'll be right back."</p><p class="western">His mother's words were echoing in his head as he walked. She had always had a way with words, a way to make him see things he hadn't been able to see before. He had always believed no one understood him, not really, but whenever she talked to him, he realized he had been wrong. She'd always understood. She always knew just what to say to make him feel better, or at least to make him think, to help him find his way through his troubles.</p><p class="western">He entered the room and went straight to the bedside table to refill her cup. "It's really cold, so drink it slowly..."</p><p class="western">He turned to the bed. Heather's eyes were closed, and her face was so peaceful, like she was only sleeping. But Blaine knew. Somehow, he just knew.</p><p class="western">He set the cup back on the bedside table and fell onto the chair. His hand found his mother's again, intertwining their fingers like they had just a few minutes ago.</p><p class="western">She had known it was time. She had sent him out of the room so he wouldn't have to see it. She had known it was time, and she had given him her last goodbye.</p><p class="western">Blaine finally let his tears spill down his cheeks.</p><hr/><p class="western">There was so much paperwork to deal with, so many phone calls to make.</p><p class="western">Blaine sat alone in a deserted room, his finger hovering over the green button below Kurt's picture and number on the screen.</p><p class="western">There were a lot of people he <em>had </em>to call – family, neighbors, his mother's friends – but there was only one person he wanted by his side at a time like this.</p><p class="western">And yet, he had promised himself he wouldn't do it.</p><p class="western">He took a deep breath, gathered whatever scraps of strength he had left, and put his phone down.</p><hr/><p class="western">For the second time in less than a year, Blaine Anderson stood in front of a new grave, and watched someone he loved disappear forever.</p><p class="western">He could feel people patting his back, saying words of encouragement, of sympathetic grief, of support, but he couldn't understand what they were really saying. He could only stand there numbly and watch them bury his mother.</p><p class="western">Less than a year. So much had changed in only a matter of months, and Blaine felt dizzy just thinking about it. He had lost, gained, and lost again, and now... now he was left with absolutely nothing. He had been confused, he had been hurt, he had loved, and he'd had his heart broken. He had lost his father, he had lost Kurt; he had lost his mother. And there he stood, alone. Everyone he cared about was gone - his parents were dead, and Kurt was in New York.</p><p class="western">He remembered his father's funeral, when he had wrapped his mother in a comforting hug, letting her know he was right there beside her. He didn't need to glance around to know no one there would do the same for him. Everyone standing at the gravesite with him were strangers, even the ones who were part of his family. Aunts, uncles, third cousins... people who only showed up for weddings or funerals or sent a Christmas card.</p><p class="western">Blaine had always been lonely - the lonely child who was happiest when he was in his room with his books for company. But now, for the very first time in his life, he knew what it truly meant to be alone.</p><p class="western">And just like that, as if he had been struck by a burst of light, he realized: <em>I have nothing left.</em></p><p class="western">His book store was gone. His family was gone.</p><p class="western">Every single root that had kept him tied in Ohio, everything he had ever held dear, everything that had made him sacrifice what he could've had with Kurt... it was all gone now.</p><p class="western">Everything he had ever known and loved wasn't there anymore, and this bittersweet freedom felt like a gift he didn't deserve.</p><p class="western">He thought of what his mother had told him: <em>Your dreams are still out there. Just go chase them.</em></p><p class="western">He knew what his dreams were. And he also knew where they were.</p><p class="western">It all ended with a funeral.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Kurt rubbed at the persistently throbbing ache in his temple impatiently. He had no time to spare for headaches, during another ridiculously crazy day at the office.</p><p class="western">Back when Kurt was just a guy from Ohio who religiously bought Vogue, he hadn't imagined how incredibly difficult it was to put his favorite magazine together. He had thought it was an effortless task, done by glamorous people indulging their whimsy. He hadn't thought about harried interns scrambling to get every tiny detail right before deadline, to ensure their bosses wouldn't serve their heads on a silver platter.</p><p class="western">Fashion really was a deadly serious business to those people.</p><p class="western">And even knowing that, there were still moments when Kurt yearned to share in the madness. He wished he had articles of his own to write or to voice his opinions at the numerous meetings he attended, instead of merely serving coffee to the truly important people in the company. He wanted to do more. He wanted to <em>be </em>more.</p><p class="western">Little did he know he would get a chance to experience some excitement soon.</p><p class="western">One exciting day, one of his bosses, Isabelle, took Kurt along with her to a cover fashion photo shoot, set at an aircraft hangar, to show him how the project took shape. He updated Isabelle on her messages during the hour long drive to the location, then passed the time chatting, as if she was any of his other coworkers. One of the most important women at Vogue confided to him that she suspected they had given her this project to distract her, because she and her longtime boyfriend had recently broken up. Kurt instinctively made a sympathetic noise and patted her hand, momentarily forgetting that she was his boss.</p><p class="western">She smiled at him gratefully, and then asked curiously how he came to be working at Vogue in New York. He gave her a very short version of his life, glossing over some of the more negative stuff, but she guessed how difficult it must have been for a boy like him, growing up in Lima.</p><p class="western">Once they arrived at the shoot, Kurt marveled at the immensity of the place. The crew was already setting up the proper lighting, and the photographer was organizing all his camera lenses on a small table so he would have them conveniently at hand. He greeted Isabelle with familiarity, before she introduced Kurt. It was obvious that they had worked together previously.</p><p class="western">The model was a beautiful brunette with perfect cheekbones and hypnotically long eyelashes, named Katrina. She was wearing a white robe, waiting impatiently for the stylist to hand her the first outfit for the shoot.</p><p class="western">The problem was she wasn't there yet.</p><p class="western">It was easy to understand why Isabelle began to stress out, when they were already falling behind schedule, before they even started. She immediately dialed the stylist's number to find out where she was. An overwrought rant from her phone explained as Isabelle's horrified face settled into worried dismay. Apparently, the stylist's van had been involved in a multivehicle traffic accident, squashed between two other vehicles. She was apologetic, but she really had no idea how long it would be before she could get there. She suggested changing the shoot for a different day, or finding another stylist to replace her, and soon.</p><p class="western">Isabelle groaned in frustration and dropped into a chair burying her face in her hands.</p><p class="western">"I can't believe this," she muttered. "We have no time left to reschedule. It was so hard to book Katrina, because she's been in such demand lately. But we <em>need </em>her, to pull off this cover. She's the model everyone's talking about."</p><p class="western">"There must be some way we can manage..." Kurt bit his lip, hesitantly. "You have impeccable taste. I'm sure you could put together some outfits for her..."</p><p class="western">"I'm good at planning layouts, Kurt," she whined, looking up at him with wide eyes. "I plan every detail well in advance to ensure nothing goes wrong. Even my own outfits. I need two weeks lead time to arrange this look. I admit I'm a control freak, and I have completely lost control in this situation."</p><p class="western">Kurt worried his lip between his teeth, thinking hard. He looked at the racks full of clothes behind them. "May I try something?"</p><p class="western">Isabelle made a vague gesture with her hand. "Sure. Go have some fun while I think how to fix this disaster. I'm a mess! Why would someone ask <em>me </em>to take over this damn shoot? Ugh, it's going to be my fault we're not going to have a cover this month and Anna is going to kill me and I..."</p><p class="western">Kurt left Isabelle babbling to herself and quickly sorted through the hangers. He could clearly see a theme among the excellent pieces: mostly earth tones that needed a shock of color so they wouldn't look drab and boring. Maybe some bold make up. He grabbed a few things at random, laying them on a table next to him before going back to the rack to find matches.</p><p class="western">Since Isabelle had decided to take her anxiety out on one of the crew members, Kurt asked Katrina, who was looking bored and frustrated, to follow him, so they could get her ready. He crossed his fingers behind his back while she retreated behind the privacy curtain with the first outfit. He had a quick word with the make-up artist, politely suggesting what he wanted, careful not to overstep his place.</p><p class="western">When Katrina re-emerged, she looked amazing in a sophisticated country chic look; the theme of this month's cover. Kurt had to admit he would kill for a pair of boots like the ones she was wearing with ivory leggings. It wasn't rocket science: all of the pieces had been already there and he had only combined the right ones into a fabulous outfit, but he was still very proud of what he'd done. He gently called Isabelle from where she was about to have a nervous breakdown, and he saw her gape at Katrina in disbelief.</p><p class="western">Before he knew it, he had his arms full of his boss, who was kissing his cheek enthusiastically. "Kurt, you're an angel!"</p><p class="western">Kurt was ushered back into the racks to put more outfits together while Katrina had her hair styled and make-up done. He <em>knew </em>he could do this. If there was one thing Kurt knew well, it was combining clothing into fabulous fashion. He could make any outfit work, even with the most extravagant pieces.</p><p class="western">He knew he had been <em>born </em>to do this.</p><hr/><p class="western">When Kurt arrived at Vogue the next morning, with the usual coffee orders, and was immediately called into Isabelle's office, he panicked. Had Anna seen the pictures from the shoot and hated every outfit he had put together? Had he overstepped by taking over the wardrobe department? Was he going to be fired? This couldn't be the end of his career at Vogue. He wasn't ready for it to end. Not when he was truly starting to enjoy it.</p><p class="western">"Stop looking so scared," Isabelle said kindly when Kurt walked into her office, placing her latte on the desk with shaky hands. "You did nothing wrong."</p><p class="western">Kurt visibly relaxed and sat gratefully, when she told him to, his knees still trembling. "So yesterday's shoot isn't a complete disaster? I have to say, I had the time of my life. But if I screwed everything up… I was just trying to help."</p><p class="western">"And the looks you put together were fantastic, Kurt," she replied with a smile. "You know, I should've been able to style that shoot myself even with my eyes closed. But I let my personal frustrations and disappointments in my private life get me down yesterday, and I wasn't capable of doing my job. I'm sorry you had to see that. I'm a little embarrassed that you had to step in and save my ass."</p><p class="western">"It's okay," he said softly. "We've all been through bad break-ups," he added bitterly. He didn't really want to think or talk about it, though. He was still so, terribly hurt that Blaine had completely disappeared from his life just like that.</p><p class="western">"True. I guess they're a necessary part of life," Isabelle sighed and leaned back on her seat. "But I'm really glad I could count on you. You saved me from humiliating myself, Kurt. You have no idea how much I appreciate what you did."</p><p class="western">Kurt shrugged a little bashfully. "It was no big deal. I just had a lot of fun and you must know I really loved doing it."</p><p class="western">"I bet it's a lot more fun than buying our coffees and taking notes in our meetings, isn't it?" She said with a little smirk.</p><p class="western">Kurt chuckled. "Well, yes. It's a lot closer to what I really want to do."</p><p class="western">She was silent for a moment, watching him. He couldn't read her eyes, and he still was a little unsure of why she had called him into her office in the first place. Was it to thank him for his help? He had the feeling there was something else.</p><p class="western">"Kurt, I want you to go to your cubicle and collect your stuff..."</p><p class="western">Kurt's breath hitched with dismay. No. After everything she'd said... were they letting him go anyway? He felt the sharp pangs of disappointment, the awful ache of failure stinging all over his body.</p><p class="western">"... and move into the desk right outside my office," she continued, suddenly beaming at him. "Because from now on, Mr. Hummel, you're my personal assistant."</p><p class="western">Kurt's face must have morphed from consternation into utter joy in the most hilarious way, because Isabelle barked out a laugh as she watched him. "<em>What</em>?"</p><p class="western">She leaned over the desk and reached for his hand. "Kurt, honey, you gave me a glimpse of what you can do, a tiny hint of your talent. I want to give you the chance to learn as much as you can now, so you can take over more responsibility in the future."</p><p class="western">"I can't believe... <em>are you serious</em>?" His voice had gone all high-pitched, and it made Isabelle laugh again.</p><p class="western">"Yes, I'm completely serious. I can't promote you directly from intern to head of the wardrobe department, but I can certainly push you to the next step in the ladder. Now that you're an official member of Vogue's team…"</p><p class="western">Kurt couldn't really contain his happiness anymore. Before he knew what he was doing, he was rushing around the desk and pulling his boss into a hug.</p><hr/><p class="western">As soon as Rachel heard the news, she was squealing and screaming, and making plans to take Kurt out for drinks and dinner that night after her performance, so they could celebrate. He'd been eager to share his good news with her, still bouncing in excitement himself, hoping no one could hear his own squeals of absolute joy, while hiding in a Vogue bathroom stall. He called his father next, who congratulated Kurt a million times. Then paused just when he was about to call Blaine.</p><p class="western">Suddenly, his happiness seemed to shrink and disappear, and he felt bitter disappointment again, because the one person he dearly wanted to share his success with was the one who had deserted him forever.</p><p class="western">And Kurt still couldn't accept that.</p><hr/><p class="western">After the second rum and Coke, Kurt switched to Diet Coke.</p><p class="western">"Oh, come on. We're celebrating! You just got promoted. Is there a better excuse to drink?" Rachel teased, as she chewed on the straw of her strawberry daiquiri. "You don't have to work tomorrow. It's Saturday."</p><p class="western">"And I don't want my celebration hangover to last until Monday," Kurt replied rolling his eyes. "I don't need to get drunk to celebrate, anyway. I'm fine like this."</p><p class="western">"If you say so..." Rachel muttered, and then nudged his foot with hers under the table. "But we should definitely pick up some celebration cheesecake on our way home. We deserve the treat. Well you do, and as your best friend, I get to share. "</p><p class="western">Kurt laughed. "Cheesecake isn't a celebratory dessert. That's for sad days."</p><p class="western">Rachel bit her lip. "Well... you <em>do </em>still look a little sad."</p><p class="western">Kurt took a deep breath. He knew where this was going. They had talked about it so many times already. "Don't go there, Rachel."</p><p class="western">"I'm just saying..." she murmured innocently. "You're obviously still upset about Blaine. But I don't think you're really trying to move on. Scott was such a sweet guy! Maybe you should give him another call, and try again."</p><p class="western">With a groan, Kurt dropped his head on the table and looked at Rachel pitifully. "Please, please, <em>please</em>, can we not talk about it? At least not tonight? I'd like to actually enjoy the fact that I've accomplished something worthwhile for the first time in <em>years</em>."</p><p class="western">"Sorry, you're right," Rachel made a gesture as if she were zipping her lips together. "I won't mention Blaine again until you tell me you want to talk about it."</p><p class="western">"Thank you," Kurt sighed in relief.</p><p class="western">They stayed for another hour, chatting about anything and everything. Kurt mostly babbled about work, telling Rachel excitedly about his new responsibilities, and about the perks that being Isabelle's assistant would bring. Now, he would have a voice. Isabelle had made it pretty clear that she trusted his judgment and that she would listen to his fashion opinions. It was part of his training, she had told him, so one day he could go another step up the ladder.</p><p class="western">She was like his fairy godmother.</p><p class="western">They were only a few blocks away from their building, so they decided to walk back. The weather was getting colder with each passing day, so Rachel pressed against Kurt's side as they walked, their arms locked with their hands in their pockets. Kurt didn't mind walking everywhere in New York. He enjoyed every second he spent wandering its streets. Sometimes he still couldn't believe he was actually living there.</p><p class="western">Rachel was completely absorbed in a story she was telling him about something that had happened that night during her performance – a last minute emergency involving her shoes; those things that happened in big Broadway productions all the time, she said – as they went up the elevator. Kurt fished for the apartment keys in his pocket, knowing she was too distracted to stop to open the door.</p><p class="western">But once the elevator doors opened in their floor, he forgot about the keys and about Rachel's broken heel. He stopped walking abruptly halfway down the hall, his eyes wide with shocked surprise, when he recognized the hunched figure sitting against the wall next to their apartment.</p><p class="western">"And then I told her…" Rachel frowned and looked up at Kurt, worriedly. "What's wrong, Kurt? Why did you…? Who's that?"</p><p class="western">Kurt could feel his heart pounding against his chest, and he took a deep breath. "Blaine?" He said shakily.</p><p class="western">Blaine glanced up from his spot on the floor, startled. If Kurt hadn't spent as much time becoming familiar with Blaine, with every inch of his skin, he probably wouldn't have recognized him: his curls were loose and messy, uncharacteristically free from their prison of gel. There was dark stubble painting his cheeks and jaw, and dark marks of exhaustion under his hazel eyes.</p><p class="western">"<em>Oh</em>," Rachel said, her eyes going wide in surprise and understanding.</p><p class="western">"Hi," Blaine muttered, standing up quickly. "I… I'm sorry I came without warning you…"</p><p class="western">Kurt felt as if he had turned into stone. He couldn't move; he couldn't take his eyes off him. "What are you doing here?"</p><p class="western">"I need to talk to you," Blaine answered earnestly, taking a hesitant step forward.</p><p class="western">"Oh, so <em>now </em>you want to talk?" Kurt replied, his broken voice betraying how hurt he was.</p><p class="western">Blaine recoiled and looked down at his feet, with an agonizing silence between them. They had both obviously forgotten Rachel was still there, until she cleared her throat and pulled her arm free from Kurt's.</p><p class="western">"So… I think I'm going to leave you two alone," she said as she walked back to the elevator. "You have a lot to talk about…"</p><p class="western">"Rachel," Kurt whispered sharply, almost like a warning, but she raised her hands in front of her.</p><p class="western">"No, Kurt. I'm going to the Starbucks down the street to have a cup of tea, and I'll be back soon." The doors were almost closed all the way, but she still managed to get a few last words out: "Let him explain before you kill him!"</p><p class="western">And just like that, they were alone in the empty hallway.</p><p class="western">Kurt took a deep breath and fidgeted with the keys, before sighing deeply. "Well. I… you might as well come in."</p><p class="western">"You don't have to let me in, if you don't want to," Blaine said uncomfortably.</p><p class="western">"Just shut up and come in," Kurt said brusquely, as he pushed the door open and walked into the apartment, without waiting to see if Blaine would follow.</p><p class="western">He heard the soft click of the front door closing behind Blaine a few seconds later, and then his hesitant steps as he entered the living room.</p><p class="western">Kurt paced restlessly around the room, not looking directly at Blaine, but feeling the effect of his presence. He could feel his eyes unsurely watching him, as he stood there awkwardly.</p><p class="western">Kurt was unsure, too. He didn't know if he wanted to listen to Blaine explain, of if he wanted to yell at him first. He didn't know if he wanted to pull him into his arms and kiss him breathless, or if he wanted to slap him very hard across the face, for putting him through all that misery.</p><p class="western">"Kurt…" Blaine whispered, an edge of anxiety in his tone, but before he could continue, something seemed to snap inside of Kurt, liberating the hurt and angry feelings he'd suppressed for weeks.</p><p class="western">"Who the hell do you think you are, Blaine Anderson?" He yelled. "You were telling me how much you missed me one day, and then you were gone the very next day! And don't you dare give me that bullshit excuse of you being too busy to type a goddamn email or call me, because I don't buy it! Do you have any idea of how fucking worried I was? I didn't know if you were trying to get rid of me and didn't know how, or if something had happened to you! You stupid asshole, you could've been dead and I would never have known!"</p><p class="western">"I'm not dead," Blaine muttered.</p><p class="western">"I can see that now!" Kurt said furiously.</p><p class="western">"My mom is," Blaine added in a painful whisper.</p><p class="western">The temperature in the room seemed to suddenly drop a million degrees colder. Kurt's breath caught in his chest, and the words of anger died on their way up his throat. He stopped pacing and turned to really look at Blaine for the first time. He looked so tired and broken, he seemed on the verge of collapsing.</p><p class="western">"What?" Kurt asked breathlessly. He must have not heard him right.</p><p class="western">"My mom died," Blaine was gazing at a point behind Kurt's head. His body was tense and his voice was brittle, too. The pain in his eyes was so palpable that Kurt could feel it himself. "Two weeks ago."</p><p class="western">"Oh my god…" Kurt covered his mouth with his hands and then, before he thought about what he was doing, he crossed the room and pulled Blaine into his arms. Blaine allowed Kurt to hug him without protest, but his arms didn't lift to wrap around him in return. "Oh my god, Blaine. What happened?"</p><p class="western">"Cancer," Blaine spat the word like poison. "There was nothing anyone could do. It was too late."</p><p class="western">"Why didn't you <em>tell </em>me?" Kurt asked, pulling away enough to look him in the eyes. "I would've been there for you! I would've gone back to Ohio…"</p><p class="western">"That's exactly why I couldn't tell you," Blaine admitted. "I didn't want to be the reason you went back to Ohio. I didn't want you to lose your internship."</p><p class="western">"You're ridiculous. You're far more important to me than a job," Kurt shook his head. "Blaine… I'm so sorry this happened to her. I'm sorry you lost her."</p><p class="western">Blaine nodded slowly, but couldn't say anything. Kurt let him go, feeling like he was only overwhelming him more with his touch. Blaine probably needed some space to put his thoughts in order.</p><p class="western">"We should sit down," Kurt made a vague gesture towards the couch. "I think there's a lot we have to talk about."</p><p class="western">Blaine complied, taking a seat at one end of the couch, while Kurt sat at the other. They were facing each other, but with enough distance between them not to touch in any way. Kurt remained silent, waiting for Blaine to talk whenever he was ready.</p><p class="western">"I know you're mad at me," Blaine finally spoke, in a low voice, after a few minutes. His hazel eyes were fixed on his own hands, fidgeting on his lap. "And you have every right to be. No matter what happened to me, it wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have pushed you away the way I did. I just didn't know how to handle everything."</p><p class="western">"I'm not going to deny that I'm still upset, but, Blaine… at this point, all I want to do is to understand," Kurt said gently.</p><p class="western">Blaine nodded again, and took a deep breath. "Things really went all to hell, after you left. At first it was only hard because I was missing you so much, but then I started having cash flow trouble with the bookshop…"</p><p class="western">"My dad told me he saw it was closed when he drove by," Kurt remembered, frowning. "What happened?"</p><p class="western">Blaine shrugged sadly. "You were right all along. Apparently, there aren't a lot of people who enjoy reading in Lima, Ohio. Not enough anyway. So I had to close it."</p><p class="western">"Blaine…" Just hearing about it made Kurt ache. He couldn't even imagine how heartbroken Blaine had to be, at losing his lifelong dream.</p><p class="western">"I did my best. I tried every idea I could think of before I had no choice but to give up," Blaine explained. He looked older just talking about it. "And then my mom told me she was sick, so I really didn't have the energy for anything else. I sold and donated everything, and then I moved in with her. She was really weak and tired the last few weeks, so she needed my help for everything." Blaine ran a hand through his unkempt curls. "Kurt, I really need you to understand that it's not that I didn't want you in my life anymore. It's just… I couldn't deal with anything else, and I knew that if I told you about what was going on, you would jump in the first plane back to Ohio. I didn't want to be the reason why you lost your dreams again, or the reason you came back to the town you were so desperate to leave for years…"</p><p class="western">"So you went through <em>everything </em>alone?" Kurt asked, desolated. "Blaine… why did you do that to yourself? You needed someone there…"</p><p class="western">"There was already too much to deal with, Kurt. I couldn't add anything else," Blaine sighed.</p><p class="western">"So when you said you were busy…" Kurt murmured.</p><p class="western">"It was true. It was just not the kind of busy you probably imagined. I was taking care of my mom and dealing with clearing out the store…" Blaine answered, and then bit his lip. "And since we're being completely honest here… the distance was pretty rough on me. I missed you so much every single day, and every time I thought of you here, it felt like another weight on my shoulders."</p><p class="western">"I missed you, too," Kurt said immediately.</p><p class="western">They didn't say anything else for a moment, resting their cheeks on the back of the couch and staring at each other. There was so much Kurt needed to know, but Blaine looked completely exhausted.</p><p class="western">"You don't look very good," Kurt commented, concerned.</p><p class="western">Blaine smiled in a joyless, bitter way. "I haven't gotten much sleep lately. I just… I can't stop thinking about what would've happened if things had been different. What if I'd given the book store one more week? What if I'd never stopped emailing you? What if I'd known a little earlier that my mom was sick? Would I've been able to do anything to help her beat it? Would I…?" He stopped talking, took a shaky breath. A few tears were suddenly making their way down his cheeks. He hid his face in his hands, and soon his shoulders were trembling with suppressed sobs.</p><p class="western">Kurt's heart broke into a million pieces as he watched him. He couldn't give Blaine his space any more. He needed to hold him, to do something to ease his pain. He crawled across the couch and wrapped his arms around him. Blaine's stiff body resisted at first, but after a few seconds, it melted into his embrace. Blaine cried helplessly against his shoulder, as he held Kurt's sweater in tight fists. The sound of his sobs seemed to echo around the apartment, and Kurt wondered for a moment if Blaine had truly allowed himself to mourn everything he had lost in the past weeks, in the past months, or if he'd been holding everything inside.</p><p class="western">"It's okay," he murmured in his ear, as soothingly as he could. "It's okay, sweetheart. You did everything you could."</p><p class="western">"I'm so sorry I hurt you," Blaine managed to say, his voice choked. "I'm so sorry, Kurt."</p><p class="western">"I know," Kurt kissed the top of his head, the unruly curls tickling his nose. "I'm sorry, too, baby."</p><p class="western">Kurt wasn't sure how long they sat there, just clinging to each other while Blaine cried himself dry. Kurt simply allowed him to vent his pain, knowing he probably needed it, whispering soothing words into his ear every now and then, just so Blaine would know that he wasn't going anywhere.</p><p class="western">Kurt was crying, too, but his were silent tears. He ached for Blaine, felt his pain as if it were his own.</p><p class="western">Finally Blaine sat up, wiping his face, after what seemed like hours. His eyes were red and so were his lips, were he had been biting on them, unsuccessfully trying to keep his sobs quiet. He swayed a little, and Kurt realized just how exhausted he really was.</p><p class="western">"Come on," he murmured, standing up and offering Blaine his hand. "You desperately need some rest. There are still things we need to talk about, but we'll have to save them until after you've gotten some decent sleep."</p><p class="western">It looked as if Blaine wanted to protest, but he had no strength left. He accepted Kurt's hand and walked after him down the hallway and into his bedroom, his eyes barely open. Kurt settled him on the edge of his bed, to grab a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt for each of them from his dresser.</p><p class="western">"I'm going to help you change now, okay?" He muttered, brushing Blaine's hair back lovingly. Blaine nodded sleepily. "Lift your arms for me, sweetheart."</p><p class="western">After they were both in their comfortable clothes, Kurt helped Blaine into bed and then slipped under the blankets next to him. A soft, contented sigh escaped Blaine's lips, as he settled against his side, his face in the crook of Kurt's neck. He fell abruptly into a deep sleep within seconds.</p><p class="western">Kurt, in the other hand, stayed awake for a long time, just staring up at the ceiling and listening to Blaine breathe, hardly daring to believe that Blaine was back in his arms, and anxiously hoping he wouldn't have to let him go again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Blaine woke up alone in an unfamiliar bed the next morning, but he knew instinctively exactly where he was. And not because he clearly remembered what had happened the previous night. In fact, everything seemed a little fuzzy, because of his exhaustion. But he was saturated with a familiar feeling of calm and safety that he hadn't felt in a very long time.</p><p class="western">That feeling could only mean that he had slept in Kurt's arms.</p><p class="western">He held the pillow to his chest, as the memories from the conversation he'd had with Kurt last night came back to his mind. There was so much he still needed to say to Kurt, but he was afraid he'd left it too late, and that he had already lost him. Kurt was right: he should've let him know what was going on, he should've been honest. If his silence had cost him Kurt, he didn't know what he would do.</p><p class="western">After a few minutes with no signs of Kurt, Blaine rolled out of bed and slowly padded out of the room, looking for him. The apartment was a decent size, especially considering most apartments in New York were tiny – it was likely Rachel had been able to afford such a nice place, once she started doing well on Broadway.</p><p class="western">He peeked into the kitchen, and saw the refrigerator door was open. "Kurt?"</p><p class="western">The door shut, and suddenly Rachel was staring at him with wide, curious eyes. She looked tiny, wrapped in a fluffy pink robe, wearing pink slippers, holding a carton of soy milk in her hands. "Well, hello."</p><p class="western">Blaine shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Oh. Hi. Good morning. I thought you were Kurt."</p><p class="western">"I'm pretty sure Kurt is in the shower," Rachel answered. She put the milk down on the counter and crossed the kitchen in three quick strides, standing right before Blaine and offering a hand. "He didn't really introduce us last night. I'm Rachel."</p><p class="western">"Nice to meet you, Rachel," he said politely as he shook her hand. "I'm Blaine."</p><p class="western">"I know who you are. He talks about you all the time," Rachel muttered as she turned back to the counter and reached for the coffee pot. She poured herself a cup and then added a bit of soy milk to it. "Unfortunately, I can't say that it has been pleasant to hear your name lately."</p><p class="western">Blaine swallowed and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "Oh?" He murmured, for a lack of something better to say.</p><p class="western">"You broke Kurt's heart," Rachel said bluntly. "But you're also the person who pushed him into coming back here, so I think there's still hope for you. I may still decide I like you. If you don't screw up again, of course."</p><p class="western">Blaine felt like everything he had learnt about Rachel since Kurt had mentioned her for the first time in his house back in Lima, suddenly made sense. She was really something else. "I don't intend to screw up again. I never meant to hurt him in the first place."</p><p class="western">Rachel took a sip of coffee as she watched him. Blaine felt himself withering under her scrutiny. Finally, she sighed. "Look, Blaine. You must be a good guy, if Kurt cares about you that much. But I don't <em>ever </em>want to see that look of hurt and disappointment on Kurt's face ever again. I think he's had enough of both, don't you?"</p><p class="western">Blaine nodded, biting his lip and trying not to drown in the self-hatred he was currently feeling. "You're absolutely right."</p><p class="western">"So please, <em>please</em>, don't break his heart again, okay?" Her tone became gentler, as she stopped next to him on her way out of the kitchen to place a hand on his forearm, almost comfortingly. "Make sure he has plenty of reasons to smile."</p><p class="western">Within a matter of seconds, Blaine decided he really liked Rachel. Someone who looked after Kurt like she did was definitely the kind of person Blaine would add to his list of favorite people. Rachel had always been a faithful friend to Kurt, even when he had locked her out of his life. "Trust me, that's exactly what I want to do."</p><p class="western">A smile appeared on Rachel's lips, soft and friendly. "Good. Then you and I will get along just fine," she turned to leave the kitchen, but paused again. "I have a few errands to run today, so I'll make sure to give you guys some privacy if you still need to talk and figure things out."</p><p class="western">"We do," Blaine answered. He glanced at Rachel gratefully. "Thank you, Rachel."</p><p class="western">Rachel waved at him as she sipped more coffee, and then disappeared down the hallway to her bedroom. Blaine looked around the kitchen, wondering if he should make breakfast for Kurt or if he should just go back to bed and wait for him there. He decided to at least pour some coffee for both of them, so he made Kurt's coffee just like he knew Kurt liked it – it felt nice to be able to do little things like that again.</p><p class="western">He hoped he'd be able to continue doing them for a very, very long time.</p><hr/><p class="western">Kurt left the bathroom, toweling his hair dry, and returned to his bedroom, now wearing black yoga pants and a blue cotton t-shirt. He wasn't sure what he was going to be doing today, but he certainly hoped it would involve Blaine in some way.</p><p class="western">First, though, they had to talk. And he didn't need fancy clothes for that.</p><p class="western">He was pleasantly surprised to find Blaine already awake, leaning against the pillows, with two cups of coffee waiting on the nightstand.</p><p class="western">"Good morning," he said, dropping the towel on the back of a chair.</p><p class="western">A tentative smile formed on Blaine's lips. "Good morning. I brought you some coffee."</p><p class="western">"Thank you," Kurt sat on the edge of the bed and reached for his cup, taking a sip and humming in approval instantly. "Still remember the way I like it?"</p><p class="western">"I'll <em>always </em>remember the way you like everything," Blaine replied softly. They both stayed quiet for a moment, simply drinking their coffees. "I met Rachel in the kitchen. She's... interesting."</p><p class="western">"That's one way to put it," Kurt snorted and then eyed him suspiciously. "She didn't say anything weird or embarrassing, did she? Because I can go kill her right now, if I need to."</p><p class="western">"No, she's really nice," Blaine assured him. "She told me she has some errands to run to give us a chance to talk privately."</p><p class="western">Kurt nodded. Part of him was dreading the conversation that was still pending. He hoped that Blaine coming all the way to New York meant something good, but what if it wasn't? The only way to find out would be to talk to Blaine about it, but the idea that the conversation could end in a goodbye scared him.</p><p class="western">Kurt didn't ever want to say goodbye to him. Suddenly, the apartment seemed awfully suffocating.</p><p class="western">"Let's get out of here," he suggested. "We can talk anywhere, right? We should take a walk or something."</p><p class="western">Blaine frowned, looking at him carefully. "Are you sure? We can stay here if you're more comfortable."</p><p class="western">"I'm not," Kurt shook his head vehemently. "I need some air."</p><p class="western">"Okay," Blaine agreed.</p><p class="western">They went back to sipping their coffee in silence, both wary of what might come later.</p><hr/><p class="western">They didn't hold hands. Neither reached for the other, and just like that the tension rose even higher.</p><p class="western">Blaine's hands were buried in his coat pockets, and Kurt crossed his arms over his chest, protectively, to shield himself from the pain he anticipated was coming. Kurt had never felt as vulnerable as he felt then, at Blaine's mercy, while they walked side by side, but too far apart, across Central Park, because Blaine could hurt him like no one else could.</p><p class="western">After walking in silence for a while, Blaine sat on a bench and watched as a group of children ran past them, screaming and laughing as their parents watched them from a safe distance. The trees were almost bare, the ground covered in their golden leaves. They would soon be buried in the snow that Winter would bring. The changing seasons reminded Blaine a lot of precious things and people he'd had in his life were gone, too.</p><p class="western">"You still haven't told me what you're doing in New York," Kurt murmured after a very long time, shivering. He was sitting next to Blaine, but not close enough to feel his warmth.</p><p class="western">Blaine was thoughtful for a while, searching for the right words. "I told you once I never left Ohio because I had nowhere else to go, and no reason to leave." Kurt nodded, remembering that day. "At my mother's funeral, I realized... I had nothing keeping me there anymore."</p><p class="western">A tiny flame of hope lit inside of Kurt's chest, although he tried to fight it. The disappointment would be even greater if he allowed himself to hope. "Why did you choose New York?"</p><p class="western">"You're here, Kurt," Blaine answered simply, as if that should be obvious.</p><p class="western">Kurt inhaled sharply, but didn't say anything. He waited, still doubtful. He needed to hear Blaine <em>say </em>it.</p><p class="western">"I had to stay after my mom was gone long enough to put things in order. I sold my parents' house, I sold my car, I rented my apartment... and I asked the dean of Dalton to write a few letters of recommendation for me and sent out some job applications," Blaine explained, hazel eyes staring ahead, as Kurt studied his profile. "I have two job interviews next Tuesday. One is for the public library here in New York. The other one is for the UCLA library..."</p><p class="western">"UCLA?" Kurt repeated, confused. "But... how...?" They were both across the country from each other, so how would Blaine go to both of them?</p><p class="western">"It depends on you," Blaine finally turned to face him, his gaze earnest and hopeful. "If you want me here, I'll stay. If I'm too late… then I'll go to Los Angeles."</p><p class="western">"Blaine..." Kurt choked out, incredulous, with wide eyes.</p><p class="western">"I got your email," Blaine continued, looking away once again. A blush painted his cheeks and his brow furrowed slightly. "It took me a while to get to it, but when I finally read it, a week ago..." One of his hands came out of his pocket, with a crinkled sheet of paper in it. He unfolded it, to reveal Kurt's printed email, wrinkled as if it had been read and reread a thousand times. "When I read this… I finally understood how much I hurt you. It's terrifying to realize how close I am to actually losing you but maybe I still have a chance to save this."</p><p class="western">Kurt took a deep, shaky breath. "You mean...?"</p><p class="western">"I love you, too," Blaine said, looking into his eyes, in the softest of ways. "I've loved you for a very long time now. But I was too much of a coward to admit how much I needed you."</p><p class="western">Kurt froze, and Blaine wasn't even sure if he was still breathing. His blue eyes were fixed on him, but when he didn't react or say anything at all, Blaine started to panic.</p><p class="western">"I understand if I <em>am </em>too late, though," he hurried to say. "The way I treated you was despicable. If you've decided to move on with this Scott guy you mentioned in your email, I don't blame you at all. He sounds like a great person, and all I <em>really </em>want is for you to be happy, so if he's the best man for that…"</p><p class="western">"Blaine, please shut up," Kurt murmured, sounding a bit breathless.</p><p class="western">Blaine went silent so quickly that his mouth hung open, until he closed it, with a clack of his teeth. He waited anxiously, aware that whatever Kurt was about to say would define his happiness for the rest of his life. When Kurt abruptly stood, his eyes went so wide it would've been comical if he hadn't looked so heartbroken, probably convinced that Kurt was going to just abandon him there.</p><p class="western">Instead, Kurt's hand reached for his and tugged until Blaine stood, too. Kurt immediately wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck to pull him closer, until their bodies were glued together, a few fallen leaves rustling under their feet. Kurt's lips curled slightly up in a ghost of a smile.</p><p class="western">"D-does this mean…?" Blaine stuttered.</p><p class="western">Kurt rolled his eyes. "Of course it does, so just kiss me, you weirdo."</p><p class="western">Their lips met almost immediately with a rush of warmth and relief because it had been far too long since they had last kissed. Kurt whimpered at the familiar taste when Blaine parted his mouth, overwhelmed by knowing Blaine loved him. Kurt could feel his eyes filling with tears of joy, even as he laughed into the kiss.</p><p class="western">A tiny smile appeared on Blaine's face. "What's funny?"</p><p class="western">"Nothing, I'm just…" Kurt hastily wiped his tears away. "I'm just so, <em>so </em>happy you're here."</p><p class="western">"So…" Blaine took a deep breath, his arms tightening around Kurt's waist. "I'm not too late, then?"</p><p class="western">"Oh, sweetheart," Kurt chuckled. "It could've taken you a decade to come find me, and you still wouldn't have been late."</p><p class="western">"Really? You would've waited for me?" Blaine seemed shocked that someone was willing to actually wait for him.</p><p class="western">"I would've probably tried to move on, but I wouldn't ever have been able to stop loving you," Kurt answered, resting their foreheads together. "So please, <em>please </em>tell me you were serious when you said you would stay with me, if I asked you to."</p><p class="western">"Kurt, I'm not going anywhere," Blaine whispered, a look of utter adoration on his eyes as he stared at the man he was holding so tenderly.</p><p class="western">Kurt beamed at him, and then leaned in to kiss him once more.</p><hr/><p class="western">They spent most of the day at the park. They walked a little, then sat closely together on the bench and shared a few kisses, pausing every now and then to talk again. There was still so much they didn't know, and they needed to catch up.</p><p class="western">When Kurt told him he had gotten a promotion at Vogue, Blaine squealed in excitement. He pulled Kurt to his feet and hugged him tightly, kissing every inch of his face he could reach as he told him over and over how proud of him he was.</p><p class="western">Blaine told him about how he had decided to keep his old apartment for extra income, although with the proceeds from his parents' estate, he could live comfortably for years. He had arrived in New York and gotten a hotel room before going to Kurt and Rachel's apartment, deciding to wait for Kurt once he realized there was no one there.</p><p class="western">He explained how lucky he'd been to even get an interview for the job at the New York Public Library, one of the most beautiful libraries in the world. He was still sad about the book store, but he was happy that he had at least tried to make his dream come true, knowing if he hadn't, he would've regretted it his entire life. He said maybe he'd consider trying it again someday, now that he was in a biggest city. But, for now, being here, being with Kurt, was enough to make his dreams come true.</p><p class="western">Kurt held him as he spoke about his mother's last days, tightening his arms around him when Blaine seemed about to cry again. But when they were done talking about their past, they both realized they had to discuss their future together.</p><p class="western">Kurt's cold-as-ice nose brushed against Blaine's cheek when he moved in for another kiss, so Blaine cupped his face in his hands, trying to give him some warmth. "We should go. It's getting late and we're both freezing."</p><p class="western">Kurt hesitated for a moment, bit his lip almost bashfully. "Can we… can we go to your hotel room? I don't want to go back to my apartment. Rachel's probably home again by now."</p><p class="western">Blaine kissed his cheek and nodded. "Of course."</p><p class="western">This time, as they walked out of the park, they held hands, fingers twined together, fitting perfectly.</p><hr/><p class="western">Blaine's hotel room held a variety of boxes and bags, all of his possessions that he hadn't left behind in storage. And now, added to that, there was a trail of abandoned clothes that led from the door to the bed, where Kurt and Blaine were gloriously naked, their skin kissed by the soft sheets, as their bodies found each other again.</p><p class="western">Blaine raised his legs and hooked his ankles together on the small of Kurt's back with a grunt, as Kurt thrust sharply, driving himself deeper into Blaine. "Oh God, I missed this. Missed you."</p><p class="western">"Mm, me too," Kurt groaned, lips brushing Blaine's pulse point on his throat before he picked a spot to start sucking.</p><p class="western">Blaine threw his head back and let out a long moan as Kurt's cock hit his prostate, his hips moving to meet Kurt's. He could feel a bead of sweat slowly making its way down his temple. He was close already.</p><p class="western">"Fuck, you're so beautiful," Kurt whispered, as he stared down at him, his eyes earnest and dark with lust. "I could watch you like this all day…"</p><p class="western">Blaine whined, hands coming up to Kurt's shoulders, needing something to hold onto. "<em>Kurt</em>."</p><p class="western">"I know, I know," Kurt murmured through clenched teeth, balancing on the edge, too. "But I don't want it to end yet…"</p><p class="western">"Who says it has to end? Oh, <em>god</em>, yes, right there…" Blaine arched his back, trying to get even closer, and his eyes fluttered shut as a new wave of exquisite pleasure travelled through him.</p><p class="western">"It's never felt like this…" Kurt gasped, chest heaving as his hips stuttered on another thrust. "It never felt as amazing before as it feels with you now…"</p><p class="western">Words fell away in another rush of pleasure. It wasn't easy to think and feel at the same time, with the pleasure cursing through them taking over everything else. Nothing seemed important anymore, only this, only being this close, together, feeling. They clung to each other, panting into each other's mouths, with their eyes locked, not wanting to miss a second of watching the man they loved coming apart.</p><p class="western">It was like Kurt was being torn apart from the inside. He began moving erratically, unable to control his body anymore. Blaine was moaning loudly in his ear, clutching him closer, as if he couldn't get enough of him. Their love was pounding inside of them, trying to break free, an unstoppable force.</p><p class="western">Kurt's fingers curled around Blaine's cock, so hard and dark, trapped against their stomachs. He stroked him in that way only lovers know, sure and loving, giving exactly the way Blaine wanted to receive, eliciting choked sounds of pleasure. Blaine clenched around him, eager and completely lost in the sensations, and with just a few more thrusts, he fell.</p><p class="western">Kurt watched him, stroking him through it, fucking him through it, relishing sharing this with Blaine, after he'd already convinced himself he would never again have the chance. Blaine kissed him sloppily, hands moving back to Kurt's ass to urge him on. Kurt thrust hard and fast, feeling his breath hitching in his throat, until his orgasm hit him like a freight train, as he cried out in his release.</p><p class="western">The world seemed to stop as they collapsed together, panting, sweaty, spent. As soon as he was able to move again, Blaine trailed his hand up Kurt's back and buried his fingers in his messy chestnut hair, pulling him in for a languid kiss. Their tongues danced together lazily, sending shivers all over them, and Blaine sighed in contentment into his mouth.</p><p class="western">"I love you," he whispered with a smile.</p><p class="western">Kurt mirrored it, just as happily. "I love you, too."</p><p class="western">Blaine's hazel eyes were bright as he stared at Kurt lovingly. "Let's just stay like this forever. I don't ever want to move."</p><p class="western">"Tempting," Kurt teased with a little smirk. "Would you stay like this even if you starve to death?"</p><p class="western">"It would be a sweet death if I could still feel you inside me," Blaine wiggled a bit, making Kurt gasp as his exquisitely sensitive softening cock moved in him.</p><p class="western">Kurt rolled his eyes. "You're a sappy romantic fool."</p><p class="western">"Maybe, but it's the truth…"</p><p class="western">They stayed like that, for a while, until Kurt had no choice but to pull out. They didn't even bother cleaning up, unwilling to part even that long. They simply snuggled under the sheets together, sighing in satisfaction, tangling their legs and fingers together. Blaine rested his head on Kurt's shoulder, feeling like he was in the most perfect place in the world.</p><p class="western">"Are you nervous about your job interview?" Kurt asked after a while.</p><p class="western">Blaine nuzzled against his neck before answering. "A little, I guess. It's a really good job. But I've been so busy worrying about other things that I don't think I've had time to get anxious about that."</p><p class="western">Kurt hummed in acknowledgement and kissed the top of his head. "What other plans do you have? You're starting over…"</p><p class="western">"Well, I definitely need to find an apartment," Blaine said, looking around the room. "I can't live here forever. I'll probably go look for a new place, later this week…"</p><p class="western">"You could stay with me and Rachel, if you want," Kurt murmured. "She's not ideal to live with sometimes, but it's better than a hotel room, right?"</p><p class="western">"Do you think she'd mind?" Blaine frowned up at him. "It would only be for a couple of weeks, though. I really want to find a nice apartment here in the city."</p><p class="western">"She won't mind at all," Kurt assured him. "What kind of apartment would you like?"</p><p class="western">"Well… I was thinking about some place we would both like…"</p><p class="western">Blinking down at him, Kurt tilted his head to be able to look at him properly. "Both of us?"</p><p class="western">"I was hoping at some point, maybe, if you want… you'd consider moving in with me," Blaine said shyly.</p><p class="western">Kurt cupped his cheek and gently shifted him enough so they would be face to face. There was a tentative, hopeful smile in Kurt's lips. "Blaine… are you, by any chance, asking me to move in with you?"</p><p class="western">Blaine's eyes wandered away from his, clearly nervous. "Maybe?"</p><p class="western">Kurt poked him on the side. "Blaine…"</p><p class="western">With a sigh, Blaine finally looked at him. "Yes. Yes, I'm asking you to move in with me."</p><p class="western">"And are you honestly afraid that I'd say no to that?" Kurt laughed joyfully, as he tightened his arms around Blaine.</p><p class="western">Blaine crawled on top of him. "Really? You want to?"</p><p class="western">"Yes, Blaine, I want to," Kurt answered, and then moved in for a quick peck.</p><p class="western">They stared at each other. Perhaps they were moving too fast, moving in together after not seeing each other for months was rash… but clinging to the person that means the world to you felt like the right decision.</p><p class="western">"We'll get a two bedroom apartment so you can have space for your own studio," Blaine said excitedly. "I want you to have a room that's only yours, so you can lock yourself in it and design as much as you want…"</p><p class="western">"So you want to spoil me?" Kurt arched an eyebrow, fingers making their way up into Blaine's curls, tugging slightly.</p><p class="western">"Always. I always want to spoil you. I always want you to smile," Blaine whispered, nuzzling their noses together.</p><p class="western">Kurt's lips were almost on his when he spoke again, sweet and mesmerizing. "So… according to all those books of yours, is this when we start living our happily ever after?"</p><p class="western">Blaine's heart threatened to beat right out of his chest. He was beaming so brightly that Kurt couldn't look away. Before he closed the distance for one more kiss, he murmured: "Yes. This is when we start living our happily ever after."</p>
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